


Forced Fate Is Still Fate (Indefinite Hiatus)

by IAmTryingToVibe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTryingToVibe/pseuds/IAmTryingToVibe
Summary: Based UponThis Tumblr Post!After things go to shit at the Fire Sage Temple, the Gaang opts to take Zuko with them when he's left for dead.  (Starts Book 1, Ep. 8).*Fair warning: much general fuckery ahead!*
Comments: 823
Kudos: 2572
Collections: AtLA <50k fics to read, Fics that I want to read once they are complete





	1. Sometimes You're Given A Choice, And You Make It. Even If It's Objectively Stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome!
> 
> CW: Hitting. They are all captive by Zhao's men for a decent chunk of the chapter so if violent treatment (no blood or overtly graphic descriptions) triggers you, don't risk it. Stay safe and happy friends!
> 
> Also I don't have a beta so this could get interesting. I swear I did my best to edit but if you come across an error just think of it as some intentional spice. To keep you on your toes.
> 
> Clarification: While the concept is taken entirely from the post I linked above, I did change a big thing; i.e. why the gaang chooses to take Zuko with them.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment/kudos, i live off validation.
> 
> And if you saw the original upload of this chapter, I swear I'm not illiterate, just sleep deprived.
> 
> And, Finally, Thank you for reading!

The pale blue light that had emanated from the cracks in the sanctum’s door faded, returning the antechamber to its ominous red glow. Sokka sunk into the chains digging at his abdomen, long since abandoning any hope of breaking them. Katara had been less willing to accept defeat, only faltering from her frantic thrashing when it became clear that the Sages and the Fire Nation soldiers could not breach the door. She fell back beside him, slumping into the ornate pillar. 

In the very back of his consciousness, Sokka was certain they could get out of this. Really, the situation only seemed hopeless from afar. They’d gotten out of worse before. Not even a day ago he’d still been in limbo in the Spirit World. If they figured a way out of that, this would be a piece of cake. All they needed was for Aang to escape. If he could make it out without stirring the small battalion in front of the door, everything would be fine. 

Which, well, easier said than done in any practical sense. 

“We’ll wait for him here,” One of the soldiers, the one who wore no helmet, spoke stern and curt. The man turned to the cluster if traitorous Sages, doing nothing to hide his annoyance, “Are there any other ways out of that room than this door?”

The Sages’ leader, or, at least, the one Sokka recognized as standing affront their general formation bowed low to the commander, “There is no other way in and out of the womb-chamber, Commander Zhao.”

_Shit._

Zhao sneered at the, admittedly, whipped behavior of the Sages before turning back to his men and requesting they remain in offense.

Sokka wished then he could reach behind his back and fling his boomerang at the lot of them. He estimated he could get three of them in a row before it lost momentum. Katara’s arm rubbed harshly into his own as she began her struggle anew. 

“Aang,” she lamented, once more falling back against the pillar, “How is he going to get out of this?”

Sokka scoffed, making an effort to clatter their chains, “How are _we_ going to get out of this?”

This situation was becoming far more desperate than he was altogether comfortable with.

He watched as Commander Zhao relaxed his stance, propping himself up straight as he worked his mind. 

_Tiny, pea-sized mind._

“It seems the Avatar will not be emerging for some time,” Zhao said, not even glancing at his men as he gave his next order, “Bind the prisoners away from here. We’ll load them onto the ship once we’ve captured the Avatar.”

“Where should we move them, commander?” One soldier braved, doing nothing to conceal the shake in his voice. 

“There are pits in the antechamber, Commander, at the very back of the room,” one Sage offered, gesturing behind them, “You can house them there, it’s more than out of the way.”

Zhao grunted his agreement, denying the Sage the simple courtesy of proper acknowledgement. 

“Bind them there, then.” He directed at his men, offering the barest of nods in Sokka and Katara’s direction. 

Faceless soldiers were on them at once, and, though their situation was about to turn for the worst, Sokka couldn’t help the physical relief he felt when the chains fell. Then of course he was bound again, this time by two separate pairs of arms pinning his arms to his back with no discretion of how much that stretch _hurt_.

Katara fared no better, he watched them tear her water-skin from her, discarding it swiftly and holding her back. Three men held her in place, however, as if she were some large-scale threat and not a fourteen year-old girl. 

“Lay off her!” Sokka yelled, shoving against his own captors’ arms. He was only shoved harder, his head slamming forward while his body kept in place. 

_Ow._

“Commander?” Sokka heard one of the soldiers speak from behind him. 

The men who held him and Katara halted, turning ever so slightly to witness the exchanges. They now had a full view of the Sage-Soldier formation and, _oh, Spirits, Aang was so, so fucked._

“What?” Zhao snapped, clipping the last consonant.

“What should we do with the Prince?”

From behind the inquiring soldier came two more, pushing Zuko forward with no dignity. Normally, Sokka would revel in the fact that Zuko had clearly just had his ass handed to him, if not for the fact that it was Fire Nation soldiers who’d bested him, which left Sokka with no one to root for. 

Zhao stalked forward, his usual apathy replaced with something taunting and malicious. He stopped in front of Zuko, smirking.

“Bind him with the others. We’ll take him along,” Zhao lent forward to level himself with Zuko, who was looking firmly away and down at the floor. “Your father is on for quite the surprise, Prince Zuko.”

Sokka watched him meet Zhao’s gaze, defiant pride doing very little to mask a very palpable fear. _Yeah,_ Sokka realized, _that’s what it is. Fear._

As soon as he’d seen it the men holding him captive were reeling him back, pushing him and Katara to the back of the antechamber.

The pits in the floor turned out to be quite literal. Where the furthest pillars stood were exposed underbellies, covered only by rusty grates. 

He and Katara were tossed in unceremoniously and bound by the wrists and ankles with horrifically scratchy rope. 

Sokka noted then that their Sage, Shyu, the good one, was not thrown down with them. 

_Maybe they were going to kill him._

Spirits, this had all gone so wrong. He’d known, he’d _known_ this was a wretched idea. Why did they never listen to him?

_Who cares what Roku has to say. It isn’t worth this._

“Stop!”

The plea came from above them, desperate and unguarded. Then, no sooner than he and Katara had been dumped into the pit, Zuko was thrown down with them, only his wrists were shackled instead of tied.

Retreating footsteps left the three of them alone, a mix of labored breathing and positioning the only sounds available in the isolated space. 

“This is so bad,” Sokka said, shutting his eyes to try and focus the thousands of thoughts spiraling in his head.

“Eungh!” Katara grunted, and he opened one eye to watch her tilt herself over in an attempt to budge the rope digging into her wrists. 

She fell back haplessly, “ _Spirits_ , Aang.”

Her voice was so small. Sokka felt a new urge to snap against his binds, because his sister needed him, and Aang needed them. All his effort resulted in was further irritation as the frayed, but sturdy, rope dug and scratched into his skin.

A wave of heat washed over him as bright flames skittered past his peripheral. Sokka shifted in utter bewilderment to Zuko, who was thrashing about despite his chains, kicking up fire with his feet. 

_What the fuck is wrong with him?_

“Seriously? You’re trying to attack us _now_?” Katara beat him to vocalizing it, both siblings scrutinizing the disgruntled firebender. 

Her only answer was another burst of fire, the sparks scattering around the floor like marbles. 

“Knock it off!” Sokka yelled, noticing one of the sparks resting at the base of the pit’s central pillar, smoking a bit before dying off. 

Zuko had knocked himself onto his back with the exertion and paid them no mind as he kicked up more fire, singing the dirt floor they sat on. 

“Fuck!” He cried out.

For a moment all that could be heard was Zuko’s heavy breathing as the sounds from above muffled themselves into incomprehensible noise. 

Then another plume of fire shot out at them, far too close to Katara’s head and Sokka snapped.

“QUIT IT!”

 _Woah._

He’d never yelled like that in his life, for a moment even he was stunned. Then he remembered his words.

“If you don’t quit throwing fire you’re going to burn us all alive!” Sokka shouted, picturing the morbid scene of their pit catching fire, cooking them all to ash.

Zuko stilled, actually _listening_ this time. 

“I can’t go back! Not now!” He gritted out, slumping against the floor, doing nothing to attain a more dignified position. 

Sokka glanced to Katara with his eyebrows raised, and she seemed just as lost as he was. 

_Are we witnessing a psychotic break?_

“He’s going to kill me if I go back now.” Zuko all but whispered, folding in on himself in defeat. 

_What?_

“What?” 

Sokka cringed back, he really hadn’t meant to vocalize the question. It was obvious Zuko hadn’t intended that last bit to be heard. 

Zuko shot up, swaying with the lack of his arms to steady his shifting weight, and glared. 

“Not your business, peasant.” He spat. 

Sokka scowled right back, not even bothering to quip a sardonic response.

_Fine. Not my business._

He fixed his eyes on the central pillar, gold detail snaking along the bright red paint. He strained to hear something, _anything_ , that was going on above them. Nothing. He heard _nothing_ beyond the three of them breathing.

“He should be out by now,” Katara said, gazing up through the grated flooring. 

Sokka saw that she was biting hard on the inside of her cheek, her face all screwed up the way it got when she was trying not to cry. 

_Please don’t cry. We can still make it._

“Maybe he’s just having an extended catch-up with Roku,” he started, modulating his tone to be unbothered, “A little, ‘me to my past life’ chat. As one does.”

She didn’t crack a smile, but still. It felt nice to joke.

“Roku? As in Avatar Roku?” Zuko asked, sucking whatever brief levity Sokka had provided from the pit.

“Not your business,” Sokka said, flat and unflinching.

Somehow, Zuko’s face managed to twist into even further contempt. Before he could respond with whatever cruel remark he’d thought up, a booming shout from above broke the momentary distraction.

“This is taking too long! How do we know he hasn’t already escaped?”

Zhao was fuming, and Sokka could only imagine the smoke that must have been radiation from him. 

_Firebenders. So temperamental._

“Take the prisoners to the ship, I’ll wait here for the Avatar!” Zhao’s voice was wild, audible even from where they sat, filled with rage and wounded pride.

_No._

Sokka’s breath came much quicker than before.

_We need to be in the temple, we need to be here when Aang emerges, to help him, we can’t leave him—_

But they had no leverage. No way of fighting off the soldiers _and_ the Sages, and no hope of tricking their way out. 

A metallic clang signaled the return of their captors, and in no time at all they were being drug back up from the pit and tossed lazily to the cold floor.

Sokka struggled to look up, and saw that the previous formation affront the Sanctum’s door remained, only now their stances had fallen back. There was no shadow beneath the door, no physical sign that Aang was still inside. 

But he knew that wasn’t possible, for there were two things he knew to be true about Aang:

One, Aang would never seek the easy way out. Even when pleaded to by his _very_ rational friend who _knew_ this was a terrible idea and was now facing the consequences, but digresses.

Two, Aang would never leave Katara.

Hands were on his back and then he was being hurled up alongside Katara and Zuko, the soldiers responsible for their care dragging them towards the stairs. In his peripheral Sokka caught a glimpse of Shyu’s robes, a crumpled heap on the floor. He turned away, he didn’t need to see any more.

Being led away from the room awakened Katara’s panic once more, as she struggled fierce against the soldiers who kept her in place.

“Aang!” She screamed, a useless action, she must’ve known, “Aang don’t come out of those doors! Find another wa-,” her speech was cut off by a firm and sharp _slap!_

Katara gave a short cry of pain, but soon fell silent. Her head lolled a bit unnaturally, and Sokka’s eyes went wide.

_They knocked her out._

“Bastards!” Sokka shouted, defenseless, throwing himself hard against the two men that held him.

That earned him a slap of his own, but he kept his conscience. 

His ankles scraped the floor as they were moved forward, hitting painfully on the edge of the steps.

_This is so bad._

_Beyond bad._

Shit, where was Aang?

“Let me go!” Zuko roared from behind them.

 _Oh, give it up_.

Still, that sent a new thread of thought weaving through Sokka’s mind. One he hadn’t considered since they’d been captured. 

_Why is he even imprisoned? Isn’t he their Prince?_

“As you say, you _highness_.” One soldier responded, voice muffled by the spooky visors they all wore. 

Sokka watched as they threw the Prince down the stairs, kicking at him to force his speed. He hit the bottom, crumpling within himself. 

“Keep moving,” the soldier to his right said, pressing Sokka forward. 

_Spirits._

It was just him. 

No Aang.

No Katara.

_This is it._

But then all the world was a bright, brilliant blue and, oh, thank _everything._

…

The push-back was strong, and his captors were tossed forward, their grip loosening. Sokka moved quickly, he knew there wasn’t much time. He body slammed the soldier on his left, sending them both toppling over. But as the soldier kept moving down the stairs Sokka forced himself to steady, sticking his leg out to trip the other soldier. Another blast of air sent the man over. Katara was released as well, her captors falling hard by the sheer force of the blast. Sokka heard the shouts of the Sages and Soldiers alike, and knew that whatever Aang was pulling off, it was going to work.

He moved on instinct, tugging against his rope binds. Yeah, he could force his wrist out. He pulled against the rope and, oh dear Spirits, ow. It burned like a bitch, but now was not the time. He forced his right hand free, biting back tears at the burning along his wrist, and immediately moved to Katara. 

For whatever reason, the blasts hadn’t hit him or his sister nearly as hard as it had the soldiers, and he could see she was starting to wake. He worked slower to undo her binds, making sure he didn't just rip her hands out and burn them as he'd done to himself.

“Katara,” he pleaded, holding her up, “Wake up.”

She squeezed her eyes further shut, trying to gain her wits again. Then at last they opened, wide and worried, “What-,”

“Aang," he said.

Katara smiled. 

_Aang always came through._

“Come on,” he prodded, helping her up. She was a bit shaky, holding her head in her hands, no doubt battling a nasty headache.

“Stand back!” Came a cry from above. 

A deep roar settled in the temple, and the entire building began to shake. 

“We need to move!” Sokka yelled, holding onto Katara as much for his balance as for her protection.

He yanked her forward, but she pulled back, staying in place.

“Katara-,”

“Aang! He needs us!”

Sokka was more than certain Aang was capable of handling himself, and absolutely the reason the building was starting to shake and crumble, but he knew his sister. He knew how she was with Aang. He wasn't going to win this argument.

“Okay.” He conceded.

They moved up the staircase, stumbling about as the room shook, reverberating shocks through his entire being. He felt a sudden swath of heat, had the temperature increased? 

They made their way back into the antechamber, and there was—

_An old man?_

“Roku!” Katara shouted. 

_Roku? How the fu-_

He nearly missed the chunk of wooden pillar hurtling towards him, ducking just in time. Whatever awe-inspiring Avatar trick Aang was pulling this time around, it appeared to be indiscriminately violent.

“Aang!” Katara called, and, oh for the love of _everything_ she was moving closer. Why did she feel inclined to move _closer_? 

The floor of the antechamber had split open, hot lava bubbling below it. There were no soldiers or Sages to be seen, though they may have escaped through the now gaping holes in the walls. The ceiling was starting to give, and, _shit,_ Aang needed to _stop._

Wind was whipping past as Roku-Aang began to sink lower. The light around him was too intense for Sokka to look at it for too long, but the air was beginning to settle.

Katara had made it to where Aang would land, through sheer will he supposed, and was extending her arm.

Spirits, he did not understand why it always worked, but nonetheless he was beyond grateful for Katara’s avatar-calming powers. The light faded, and there, in Roku's place, was Aang. 

He fell into Katara, exhausted. Sokka almost felt mean to call them back to reality. Almost.

“Hurry up! The building’s gonna fall!” He shouted.

Aang was up in an instant, looking sheepish at the damage he’d done. 

_Whatever. He’d saved them. Screw the temple_ , Sokka thought. 

Aang and Katara moved quickly, avoiding the churning lava best they could while making their way along. Finally, they reached Sokka and the three of them crashed into each other, grateful to be together once again. 

A deep scraping violated their ears. The pillars that lined the room were unsteady, one groaned as it began to fall forward.

No time to talk. They moved down, hitting the bottom of the stairs. 

Sokka was more than happy to keep going, to run until they were on Appa far away from the Fire Nation and safe. But that determination disappeared when he tripped over the still unconscious body of Prince Zuko. He crashed hard onto the ground, winded as he collided with the floor. He managed to get his bearings but couldn’t move, he glanced at Zuko. Shit. They couldn't just leave him there, could they?

_Yes, of course we can._

“Sokka!” Katara called, turning back to see why he was no longer beside them. She rushed forward to help him up, but he was still thinking this through. One thing at a time.

Aang skidded to a stop beside him, “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t just leave him here.”

Katara’s eyebrows knitted together, she shook her head, “I don’t know what you-,”

Almost on cue, Zuko groaned in pain behind them. Aang whipped around as Katara finally understood. She shook her head,

“Of course we can. Let’s go.”

“Wait, Katara-,”

“No! We need to go!”

“Katara,” Aang started, catching onto what Sokka had meant, “We can't-,”

“Yes. We can. He has people, he’ll get out.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Sokka whispered. 

“What do you care?” She fired, still firmly against the suggested course of action.

“I don't. But Katara, letting people die is not how we operate.”

“He’s already bound.” Aang offered. He was now crouched down to observe Zuko, who shifted in his detached state.

“So?” Katara spat.

“We could take him prisoner.” Sokka concluded.

Aang nodded, though his expression was hard to gauge.

“I don’t like it.” Katara affirmed, arms crossed.

“Well neither do I, but maybe, _maybe,_ this could be an advantage.”

She scoffed.

"No think about it! He's the one constant threat to us successfully making it North. Maybe there's some leniency there. Maybe we can strike a deal, shake his confidence? Something." He shrugged.

"Or maybe we can get him on to our side!" Aang added. 

Bless his optimism. _No_ , that wouldn't happen. But Sokka could tell Katara was considering the prisoner option. He knew her compassion would overwhelm her valid concern. She looked at Aang, debating. 

"Fine."

He'd done it! He'd actually managed to get Katara to agree with him. The building lurched again, it was going to split in half.

Sokka made his way over to Aang and Zuko, the latter of which may well have seemed dead, if not for a shallow breathing that was barely audible in the chaos. Sokka moved to hold him up, and, Spirits above, he was _so heavy_. 

"Katara," Sokka breathed, struggling to hold Zuko up "Help."

Anger flashed in her eyes, but she'd already agreed. She made her way over, taking some of the burden, but it didn't help much.

"Go!" Sokka shouted, and they began to move. 

It was actually quite simple to maneuver your way through a collapsing temple while carrying a deceptively heavy Prince on your shoulders when death was your only other option.

The brunt of Roku-Aang's damage had been on that top level, the further down they traveled, the more muted the sounds of destruction became, and Sokka and Katara were able to measure their steps.

"Ah!" She cried out, her grip failing and sending them crashing over.

"Katara!" Sokka chided, taking the worst of the impact.

"I'm sorry! His stupid armor was digging into my arm!"

"Then just take the armor off," Aang said, hovering slightly ahead of them. 

"It would lighten the load." Sokka murmured, rubbing his arm.

"Ugh! This is ridiculous!" Katara protested. And well, who was he to blame her? This _was_ ridiculous. 

A loud boom thundered from above them, sobering the tension amoung them immediately.

"Fine!" She conceded, "Take the damn armor off!"

"You're not gonna-," he cut himself off, and the look she gave him was scathing. 

_Nope. No help. Got it._

"Aang, help me out."

Aang jumped into action, by their side in a second. 

The shoulder plates were easy enough to get rid of, and he and Aang worked quickly to untie them. The breastplate was a challenge, there seemed to be no way of removing it without his arm separated, and the shackles binding his wrists made that essentially impossible. They stared dumbly at it before Katara huffed and stood above them.

"It ties from the sides!" 

_Oh._

She was, of course, right. They worked silently to remove the upper armor, and just as silently agreed not to touch the metal plates below his waist. They were, after all, fourteen and fifteen respectively and not even fear of death could erase the inherent awkwardness of what they were doing. 

When he and Katara lifted Zuko again, the change was staggering. He was still rather heavy, but with his top armor gone everything became easier. They might actually make it out. When the familiar entrance of the Fire Sage Temple revealed itself, Sokka felt he might yelp in joy.

_We actually did it._

Aang swerved past them out the door on his glider, "I'll be back with Appa, keep moving!"

He disappeared from sight as Sokka and Katara stumbled forward, the physical toll of carrying someone through a crumbling Temple catching up to them. His arms burned with the effort and his breath was coming short and stilted. 

They made their way down the charred pathway, nearly collapsing with relief when Appa landed down hard next to them. Katara let go, making sure to give Sokka time to adjust to the weight change, and jumped up into the saddle. She leaned far over the rim, and extended her arms. Here came the hard part. 

Sokka knew in his mind this could work. But in the mind versus the actual doing of the thing? Different realms.

"If you can get his arms up, I can hold him while you get on Appa and then we can drag him up together," Katara insisted, arms hanging low off the saddle.

Sokka nodded, he shifted his hold, and, _Spirits_ , Zuko's hands were still bound. He tried to hoist Zuko's arms up, but doing that only weakened Sokka's hold on the rest of his body, and sent them hurtling backwards. 

"Sokka!" Katara cried, reaching further.

"Oh! Here!" He heard Aang yell, and without warning, they were both lifted high into the open air by a sharp gust of wind. Sokka arced just over Appa's saddle, reaching out to pull Zuko down with him. He hit the saddle first, and was nearly crushed by the weight of the other boy, his breath leaving him entirely. 

Katara hauled Zuko off, pushing him to the back of the saddle. It was truly remarkable how, in all of that, the firebender was still lights-out, as if nothing had happened. 

"Appa! Yip, yip!" Aang declared, and they were airborne, flying east. 

Sokka didn't dare to relax until they were back over Earth Kingdom waters. 

...

"Whatever Roku told you," Sokka started, his exhaustion seeping into his voice, "It wasn't worth it."

Aang didn't respond, he didn't even move his head to acknowledge he'd heard what Sokka had said. 

Sokka sighed, turning to look towards their new companion. Or, as he'd put it earlier, their prisoner. That didn't feel right, but he genuinely wasn't sure what this was. 

He felt Katara's eyes on him. He closed his own, gathering what he wanted to say,

"Katara," he started, but wavered when he saw the look she was giving him. Was she really _that_ upset? She shut her eyes, scrunching her features together and relaxing them. After one long breath, her glower melted into relief.

"Don't," she finally said. "You were right. And it all worked out. I'm sorry I doubted you."

He smiled, "No. You were right. That was beyond stupid."

"Yes, it was."

She snorted, breaking into a laugh, and her laugh was always infectious.

What _had_ just happened, anyway?

It was all ridiculous. All of it.

Sokka began to laugh as well, consumed by the sheer absurdity of their last twenty-four hours. 

Katara dropped off first, her head turned to look at Aang. She moved towards the younger boy, matching Aang's solemn resolve instantly. She lay a hand on Aang's arm, and Sokka quieted. 

"What is it?" She asked. Katara always saved her kindest tone for Aang, careful to remind him she truly cared.

Aang collapsed into the touch, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He still looked ahead into the horizon, his eyes lost in whatever he was thinking about. At long last, he spoke.

"When I was with Roku, he told me something. Sozin's Comet. It's coming. By the end of the summer. It's bad. The Fire Lord’s planning to use it." He buried his head into his arms.

"Sozin's Comet?" Sokka asked.

"It gives firebenders unbelievable strength," Aang stated, his voice reserved and full of sorrow, "It's what Fire Lord Sozin used to, to-," he didn't finish. He didn't have to.

"Oh, Aang," Katara wrapped her arm around the young airbender, "I'm so sorry."

Aang shook his head. 

"I have to learn _every_ element by then. I have _months_. Months for the other three elements. Most Avatars take years upon _years_ to master even _one_. I can't do this."

The young boy curled into himself, hugging his knees to his chest. Sokka's heart tugged, it wasn't fair. Aang had the weight of everything upon him, leaving it to fate to add one more twist of the knife. He moved to join his sister and the avatar, placing a hand on Aang's small shoulder.

"You can." He insisted. And truly, he believed it.

"I just feel left out to dry! How could I ever do something like that in such little time?"

"Aang," Katara assured, rubbing circles into his back to calm him, "You have us. We're already traveling North to find a waterbending master, and I've seen you Aang. You have so much talent, if anyone could do this, it's you."

Aang offered a small smile, "Thank you Katara."

"Of cour-,"

"Hey, what about me?" Sokka interjected, crossing his arms, "I offered good faith too."

Aang laughed a little, exactly as Sokka hoped he would. It was soft and short, but still, it was good to hear. 

"Thank you, Sokka."

Their moment was sliced short, however, when the muffled groan of someone in pain cut through their content silence.

_Oh._

Right.

Sokka just _had_ to do the right thing. 

They each turned back, watching as their new company began to stir. Zuko was waking up.

_This would be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had fun, I'll be back with an update soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. The Unfortunate Reality Of Honor And Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back!
> 
> So, initially this chapter was going to go up through the end of "The Waterbending Scroll," but it was beginning to get far too big, so I opted to chop it in half. This is part one.
> 
> To the one who commented, "what's the bet that zuko looks over appa's side and starts shrieking?" This one's for you bby, you win.
> 
> Well, not much else to say. There's some good moments ahead. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Whatever Zuko had expected to see when he woke, the clear blue of the open sky was not his first assumption. 

_What had happened?_

He did his best to recall his capture; Zhao had appeared from nowhere, poised to ruin his plans once again. They'd thrown him into a pit, and then, down a staircase?

Fuck, he hurt _everywhere._

Had he been taken prisoner? Was he on Zhao's War Ship?

_No._

He couldn't be. The sky was so blue, bluer than he'd ever seen it, uninterrupted by the horizon. 

It couldn't be. Was he...was he _in the sky_? 

_Had he died?_

"He's waking up!" 

Fuck. 

That didn't sound like a voice that would belong to any of Zhao's men, though it wasn't as if Zuko knew them all personally. Still, there was something inherently familiar about-

_Wait._

Did the ground he lay on just, _grumble_? He turned his head sharply to the side, sending his entire body over. Landing on his shoulder sent brief shots of pain down into his arm, but he found them dulled by the pressure pushing sharp into his head. 

His good eye was still adjusting, but he could make out the flat flooring, rounded out by a rim. Was this some giant wooden tub? He moved to rub his eye, but the gesture yanked along both of his arms.

_What the fuck?_

His shackles clinked together, sending a brief ring into his ears. Had Zhao's men shackled him? It was all so clouded. Zuko turned back to the sky, adjusting to look at his chains. They were loose on his wrists, cheap iron. He moved his gaze up further, looking past his upheld arms, and _Oh what the actual fuck was this?_

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself this was a vividly disturbing hallucination, the image of the two Water Tribe peasants that were always by the Avatar’s side never faltered. 

Tension hung heavy between them as both parties waited for the other to...what? Attack? Speak? Zuko knew that if he attempted to do anything with current pounding in his head he’d end up doubled over.

“I’ll try and land us on that clearing, just ahead!”

That voice. He _knew_ that one, unmistakably. He forced himself to look away from the two teenagers staring holes into his soul, and saw him, _the fucking Avatar_ . There he was. Back turned to them as he held onto gigantic reigns, just as impossibly young as he was every other encounter they’d had. But this was _nothing_ like any other encounter they’d had. This was _fucked_ , and so, so weird. The Avatar tugged at the reigns, and at last Zuko was able to register where, exactly, he’d woken up. His eyes shot wide, _he was on the Avatar’s gigantic flying bison._

Fuck the pain that radiated from the back of his head to every muscle in his body, Zuko immediately began to move, quicker than either of the Water Tribe duo were prepared for, and hoisted himself up to peer over what he now registered as a large saddle. 

He could have puked. Easily. Looking into the vast space where ground, sea, _anything_ , ought to lay, and finding only clouds sent a deep and sinking terror into him. Zuko was caught unawares as the Avatar began to turn the beast sharply to the right, and he felt himself slipping. He was being pushed forward from the saddle, way too far over its side than anyone would be comfortable with. He couldn’t help it, he screamed for dear life.

“Aang! Careful! He’s falling off!” One of the teenagers, the boy, cried out. 

_No shit_. 

Zuko grasped wildly for a hold, immediately thrown in mortal panic as his linked arms found nothing but air. In fact, all of his movement ended up forcing him further over the edge, and he was left holding on by sheer will and dwindling core strength.

“Shit! Katara, hold down his feet!”

“What?” The girl, Katara, shrieked, “I cant hold him down, I need to be free to bend in case he starts throwing fire!”

“With WHAT? They took your waterskin!” The boy shot back.

Zuko could barely register any of this, as the moment they’d finished speaking _he’d_ slipped further forward and his imminent death took full reign over his thoughts. He screamed again, lost on what else he could do in this instance.

“Shit, sorry!” The Water Tribe boy called out. 

Just as Zuko made peace with the inevitable, he felt a grip at his ankles, holding him in place. There was a tug, and aside from yanking his feet back further than was comfortable, Zuko remained in place. 

But, maybe he could try to pull up again, now that he was rooted on one end in the saddle. Zuko pushed his arms forward and down, and concentrated on moving his torso back up into the saddle. It hurt, and he felt more than once he was only going to lose hold and pull them both over, but as he managed to shove the lower half of his waist over the right side of the rim, he could finally humor not falling to his death. 

As he made his last good faith push upwards, he was assisted by hands gripping tight onto his shoulders, pulling him back to safety inside the saddle, if you could call sitting in a tied on leather bucket strapped to a gigantic mammal ‘safe.’

It was only after he was able to push down the adrenaline clogging up all of his attention that he registered the fact that he was now sprawled on top of the one who’d come to his aid, the Water Tribe boy. And in that moment, he wished he was still hanging off the fucking bison. 

“Let go of me!” Zuko yelled, throwing himself to the side, freed from the grip that had, in no short terms, saved his fucking life.

“How about a ‘ _thank you for not letting me fall to my death’_?” The other boy muttered.

“Sokka! Are you okay?” Katara knelt beside the boy, Sokka, helping him sit back up. Zuko had no such assistance, and forced himself back into a sitting position, careful not to move his arms too harshly to any one side. 

“I’m fine.” Sokka replied, rubbing his shoulder where all of the weight of their previous crash had landed. 

“And what about you?” She snapped, barely glancing in Zuko’s direction. He glowered, _If she really had such a fucking problem-_

"Here,” Katara said, her voice guarded.

Katara shifted over to him, and he moved further back, confused. She set her mouth into a line and caught his right arm, which he was useless to twist free from in his shackled state.

"What are you doing?" He sputtered, outraged at the lack of power he held in this situation.

"You scratched your arm on Appa's saddle," She explained, forcing a calming inflection to bite down her own disgust, "I need to see if it's a minor scrape or something we ought to bandage when we make camp."

"What do you care?" He snapped, still trying to free his arm from her grip.

She shook her head, moving his right arm just the slightest bit to view the injury, which was barely a scrape, only the smallest beads of blood coming to the surface. 

"I don't," She finally said.

Though even as her words rang true she placed his arm down carefully, eyebrows furrowed as she assessed the need of the wound.

"Aang, try and land us near water.” She ordered.

"But the clearing-,"

"I know. But I need water to clean Sokka and... _Zuko's_ scrapes. Appa's saddle is a bit rough at the edges, apparently."

"Oh, right, sorry. It looks like there's a stream down there, I _think_ I should be able to land us on the strip of clear grass around it," The Avatar said, rushing his words into a few short seconds of noise.

"Perfect." Was Katara's only response. 

She moved back over to Sokka, whispering low. Zuko did his best to catch onto the words, but they were swallowed by the wind hallowing in his ears. 

Fine, if he couldn't eavesdrop, he needed a plan. And, as much as it appealed to him to set everything on fire and hope a tree broke his fall- he couldn't. They'd saved his life. Twice. For though they didn't speak to confirm it, Zuko knew it was them who'd gotten him out of the temple, and subsequently out of Fire Nation waters.

He actually owed his life to the Avatar and his friends twice over. _Fuck._

_What would Uncle do?_

He did his best to assume, imagining his Uncle in his place. 

_He'd, well, hmm. He'd ask for some tea, no, no. He'd_ make _a pot of tea, and, and-_

_And he'd thank the Avatar. Figure out their plans, and keep everyone at ease._

He couldn't act like Uncle. Not even if he actually tried. He didn't have the patience, that much he knew. But he also couldn't spit in the face of those who'd saved him. Well, this was a fucking mess. 

"Landing now, hang onto something!" The clear voice of the Avatar rang out, snapping Zuko from his thoughts. They were losing height rapidly, sending his heart into his stomach.

Fuck, he couldn't grab hold of anything with his hands chained! This was it, _this_ was how he'd go. After all of it, the culmination of his life, he was going to die when the _creature_ landed and sent his femur into his ribcage-

_Oh!_

The impact wasn't small, but aside from sending a dull reverberation throughout him, it was fine. _He_ was fine. 

"Nice one, buddy!" The Avatar cried out, his voice obnoxiously chipper. Was he actually _talking_ to the fucking Bison? Zuko swore he heard the beast grunt back, as if it were responding.

Sure. 

Whatever.

_No! Why was he talking to the bison? Could the bison understand him? Were there key phrases? A type of bison-to-airbender communication system? “Buddy,” he’d called the thing “buddy.” What did that even mean, was that some term of endearment? Was it derived from the word ‘bison’? What the genuine fuck-_

"Okay! Aang you can start unloading, I'll help Sokka down-,"

"Katara!" Sokka whined, pushing himself to stand, and also interrupting Zuko’s own crisis over the Avatar and his bison. "I'm completely fine, I don’t need you babying me.”

As if to prove his point, Sokka brushed past where Katara stood and untied a tarp at the back of the Beast's saddle, tossing three sleeping bags over onto the ground below. Sokka was about to push everything the tarp had covered off when Katara rushed over, her expression fixed and annoyed.

"Don't throw over our baskets, you'll ruin all our supplies, idiot!" She forced Sokka out of the way, and, had Zuko not moved in time, would've sent Sokka tripping over him. 

"Watch it!" Zuko called out despite himself.

Katara froze, turning back to regard Zuko, as if she'd forgotten he was even there. 

"Sokka?" 

"Yeah?"

"What are we supposed to do with _him_?"

Sokka turned to look at Zuko, and, you know, he was getting really fukcing sick of those two staring him down like a puzzle to be solved. Sokka tilted his head, he seemed to be debating their options in his mind. 

Finally, "Well, we can help him down. There's plenty of trees around here... we can tie him to one of them while we figure this out."

Katara nodded, "Aang! Help me with these baskets, and get the rope we keep in Sokka's bag!"

Within a second, The Avatar was back, easing his landing onto the saddle with airflow. 

"Sure thing, Katara." The young boy smiled, presenting a spool of fine rope. His task was complete, but even Zuko noticed the Avatar staying by her side just a moment too long. Weird. 

The three of them worked quickly to get everything set up, taking breaks in between to make sure Zuko hadn’t moved from his place in the saddle. He wasn’t sure where he was meant to have gone, he had no clue where they were, and was more than at their mercy. Besides, there was no fucking way he was gonna try and climb down from the giant beast on his own. 

Katara came over some time later to splash water on the small cut that had long since stopped bleeding. Huh. When she'd made such a fuss earlier about being near water, he'd assumed she was a healer. His Uncle had told him once about the sensation of being healed by Waterbending. Zuko wasn't surprised Katara couldn't, but, still, he'd almost been looking forward to it; having that experience to compare to his Uncle's depiction.

...

When all their tasks were complete, including tying Zuko against a tree that kept close to where they’d set a fire pit, the sun had sunk low into the sky, painting the treeline in a deep and beautiful ember orange. Everything about his current situation aside, it was actually a very nice evening. 

The Avatar had just returned from feeding his bison when Zuko finally got sick of the silence.

“What are you planning to do with me?” He asked, trying very hard not to sound too hostile. 

“We-,” The Avatar began, but words failed him. He raised an eyebrow, turning to face his friends instead. 

Katara shook her head, turning to look at Sokka, as if he was the leader among them. Bizarre. 

“Actually, I have no idea,” Sokka said, emphasizing it with a nonchalant shrug. 

“What?” He hadn’t meant it to come out as curt, or as loud, as it did, but this was _unbelievable_ , “You took me prisoner and you don’t even have a plan to back that up?”

“Hey! We didn’t take you prisoner, we saved your life from that crumbling Temple!” Sokka defended, his previous air of ease evaporated.

“How am I not your prisoner? You tied me to a tree!” He pushed emphatically against the rope that was strewn across his shoulders.

“Well how else are we supposed to ensure you don’t try and attack us? And of course you’re a prisoner.” Katara bit back, eyes narrowed.

“I could just burn the rope! What kind of capture is this?”

“You aren’t exactly a master of taking prisoners yourself.” Sokka huffed.

“Yeah but this is stupid! It would be like if when I’d captured The Avatar I suspended him in a vast open-space with loose rope!”

“Not that I needed the assistance,” The Avatar added, “Because. You know. I escaped anyway.”

“Ugh! This is ridiculous!” Zuko slammed back into the tree, only slightly cringing at the pain that followed the movement.

“Well, hey!” Sokka cried, upset by the criticism launched at what was no doubt _his_ lack of a plan, “If you’re so sure you can burn through the rope, why haven’t you?”

“Yeah!” Katara jeered, “Seems like you’re bluffing.”

“I-,” Ugh! This was so fucking stupid. 

But, they’d caught him in that lie. He _could_ burn through the rope, easily. But even as fired up as he was, he knew he didn’t have the control to keep the flame from growing too far out of hand. He’d set the entire camp ablaze, and it would singe right through his shirt and burn his skin. Shirt and skin? He narrowed his eyes, that didn’t sound right-

_Wait._

“Where the FUCK is my armor?” He shouted, now _very_ aware of the rope hugging around him. How had he not noticed it before? Where had it gone? They didn’t, they couldn’t have-

“Did you strip my fucking armor off?” He fired again, looking around at them wildly. 

It seemed none of them had an adequate response to that. The Avatar was kicking at the ground, suddenly very consumed in the motion of dirt turning over at his heed. Katara just rolled her eyes, but Sokka...he looked absolutely mortified.

 _What in the actual_ fuck _was going on?_

Sokka bit the blade first, coughing, “We, uhm, well, see, the shoulder pieces were digging into our, yeah, so,” he cut himself off, taking a deep, perhaps too exaggerated, breath, and tried again. “We needed to take the top half off because you were too heavy to carry through the temple with it on.”

“Then why didn’t you take all of it off?” He shot back, still fuming.

That shut Sokka up, and looking to Katara only further confirmed their silence was the result of sheepish discomfort. They were such, such _kids_! He was no longer confused as to why they’d spared his life: it was a split-second choice that none of them bothered to think about for more than a moment.

There was a long stretch of silence, then,

“We did our best. We couldn’t let you die in that temple.” It was the Avatar, his speech freakishly calm and leveled. He moved closer, “We took you prisoner because we needed a justification. I don’t want you to think we have any ill intent.” 

“What?”

Truly, what was this? The Avatar spoke with a chilling confidence, it was odd how reassuring his words were. At least, how he’d made them sound. 

“I’ll remove the rope,” The Avatar said, eyes set and determined, “But I don’t want you to run. You don’t know where we are, and I really don’t need another threat. I have more than enough going on right now.” He said the last bit low, as if he’d only been talking to himself. 

“Aang-,” Katara started, but he shook his head, silencing her. 

“If you promise not to run, not to attack, I’ll remove the rope, and we’ll do everything we can to remove the shackles.”

“Why?” Zuko finally asked, all the anger gone from his voice. Now, it was just hollow. Confused.

“I’m not sure,” the boy admitted, “But it’s your choice.”

Huh. His choice. How could he even _begin_ to deconstruct that offer?

The past three years, his only drive was to capture the Avatar. Present what he’d assumed would be an old man to his father, and return to his home. He’d lost all of his honor, and all he wanted was to get it back. To return to life as it was before-

Before.

But he knew, deep down, that to run? To attack those who’d already saved his life twice over? There was no honor in that. 

He’d take the child’s deal. Worry about his ultimate goal later. Zuko needed to repay this debt, and he couldn’t do that hunting them down, or tied to a tree.

“Okay.”

The Avatar, Aang, lit up. Zuko may well have been offering him a mountain of gold instead of the actual cold promise not to stab them in the back.

“Great!” Aang rushed forward, but before he was too far out of reach Katara planted a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Aang, wait. You can’t know he’s being honest.”

Aang slumped his shoulders, “But-,”

Katara shook her head, and Aang faltered, casting his gaze downwards.

“I am being honest,” He said, trying to level his voice the way Aang had earlier. It just came out whiney and accusatory.

She looked at him, confusion mixing with distrust in her expression, “No. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Well, she was right about that. Nothing about this situation made any fucking sense, yet here they were. They were watching him. Waiting to see what he’d do. He took a breath,

“I will not run, I will not attack. I would be grateful, if you untied me, and helped remove my chains.” He did his best to bow, pushing his head forward and down.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground, counting blades of grass as their silence grew. 

“We could at least remove the shackles. If he attacks, we’ll just abandon camp and get away on Appa,” Sokka said, breaking the suffocating quiet.

“No, too risky.”

“Katara, we’ve evaded him plenty of other times. We’re in the place of power here.”

She considered this, for once not jumping to the opposition. It was simply a nod, but the minute she’d offered the bare minimum of approval the mood shifted so fast Zuko nearly got whip-lash.

“I'll untie him, and set him up over there,” Sokka started, pointing to a jutting stone, the surface decently flattened and weathered, “Katara, start on dinner. Aang, follow me. And make sure you’re free to bend, just in case.” Aang saluted him, a jovial grin breaking over his face. Katara rolled her eyes, but there was no more argument to settle. 

Aang stayed in front of Zuko, whistling into the night-air. Sokka made quick work of untying the rope, and was around the tree in seconds, holding out his hands. It was a question: _can I help you up?_ Zuko nodded, and used Sokka’s hold to stand, trying not to be blindsided by a sudden fit of vertigo. He took a moment to regain his wits, ignoring the pounding still drumming through his head. He noticed a moment too late he was still grasping onto Sokka’s hands, and pulled back sharply, avoiding any eye-contact. 

_What, was he going to be sick? Why did his chest feel like that?_

Sokka cleared his throat, seeming a bit nervous, and turned around, “Just, uh, follow me.” 

...

Ease had been afforded as the night drug on, the sky illuminated by the brilliant diamonds that scattered throughout it. 

Zuko had kept his word. He hadn’t made a run for it, and he hadn’t tried to attack. The rock he’d been told to sit by was near enough to the fire, enough that they could still keep a watchful eye on him as Katara stirred some sort of stew in a beaten metal pot. She portioned it all out into bowls, and sighed. 

“I don’t know how to remove them.”

What was she on about?

“Me neither,” Sokka replied, “We can crush the center chain with my club, but the metal around the wrist? No clue.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Or rather, his shackles. He’d forgotten that bit of their deal. 

“Maybe you could freeze them off.” Aang offered.

Katara shook her head, “I don’t think I have the control. Or the ability.”

"Of course you do, Katara," Aang said. 

_Ugh_ , were they always so _positive?_

"Well, couldn't hurt to try." She folded.

 _Uhm, yes it fucking could_. But Zuko bit his tongue, no need to shoot down the only feasible idea they'd come up with to free his hands.

Sokka stood, and retrieved his club, swinging it with a slight flourish. Katara went to fill her now empty bowl with water, and they both returned set and determined. Zuko gulped, _he was going to lose his hands._

"Set your hands on the rock's surface," Katara instructed, settling slowly adjacent to him, trying to keep the water in the bowl, "Try and keep your hands as far apart as possible."

He complied, but he couldn't ignore the nerves digging at his stomach, _how was this ever going to work?_

Aang had moved over to observe, hanging behind Sokka with a curious glint in his eye, an ugly lemur perched upon his shoulder. 

"Okay, I got this," Sokka was hyping himself up, handling his club with ease, "Here we go."

Sokka moved to strike, and Zuko couldn't help it, he shut his eyes, preparing for the club to crush one of his hands. 

The sound of stone on metal broke through the air with a sickening _clink_ , but he felt no pain. Infact, he felt his arms relax backwards. Separately. Zuko opened his eyes, daring to hope-

 _He'd done it_.

"Oh _frick_ yeah!" Sokka cheered, flexing in awe of his success. 

"Must have been really cheap iron," Zuko said, marveling at his newly separated arms.

"Hey, don't ruin my celebration, pal. That was impenetrable iron and I am supremely strong."

Zuko snorted. He couldn't help it, Sokka was being absurd. 

Once they'd settled from the first victory, the solemn anticipation was built anew, as Katara moved closer to the rock, placing her bowl of water beside them on the dirt. 

She was incredibly tense, her shoulders taught and face held painfully stiff. But, the water _was_ moving. It came shaky, and he knew even before it splattered onto the stone that it wasn't going to work. 

"You're too tense," Zuko said, concentrating on the water running down the rock and onto his hands. 

"Maybe it just won't respond to you because I should be using it to attack you." She snapped, stretching out her hands.

"No, you're treating it like it's some great feat. It's just bending, stop forcing it."

"As if _you'd_ know. This isn't firebending, it takes actual skill."

_Breathe. Breathe. It’s not like you have another way out of this._

"I think he's right, Katara," Aang said.

"Excuse me?" She whipped around to face Aang.

"I was always taught that bending was an instinct first, skill second. Honing it will take work, but that doesn't mean you're completely useless until you find a master. I know you can do it, just try and relax."

"I am perfectly calm!" 

Aang held his hands up in surrender, but his point had already been made. She sighed, closing her eyes, re-centering her attention. 

Her eyes opened with a new determination, and this time Zuko dared to hope she might really succeed. The water came easier, perhaps still a little too loose, but the ease was present. She split the stream in two, breathing deep and measured as she guided each to wrap around the metal braces. One final breath and she flicked her hands forward, the liquid water becoming tight and solid ice. 

"You did it, Katara!" Aang encouraged.

And true, she had, but there was still a second step to this plan. She didn't break her concentration to answer Aang, but her shoulders had fallen a little, released slightly from her previous tension. She focused on the new rings of ice, studying them before she brought her hands up, and swung down, shattering the ice as she did so. And, if the new sensation of cold air on his wrists was any clue, she'd shattered the metal as well. 

"I did it!" She jumped up, excitement radiating through her, "Aang, I did it!"

"I knew you could!" Aang replied, whooping in celebration.

"Yeah," Sokka interjected, "Great trick with the ice, Katara. Shame you never used it while we were hunting, could've saved more than a few fishing boats."

Her only response was to send the rest of the water from her bowl careening into Sokka's face, soaking him. 

Zuko’s initial euphoria faded and he had the twisting realisation that in addition to owning his life twice over, he was also in debt for this. Great. 

Once the excitement settled, they offered him a bowl of Katara's stew, which had chilled during the removal of his chains. It was one of the worst things he’d ever tasted, and he had half a mind to convince himself that not setting the bowl on fire and screaming while eating it was more than payback for their deeds. 

But no. He’d concluded he owed them each. He’d stick around to pay his debt, and then he’d escape. He didn't know for sure when he'd begin his hunt again, but it didn’t matter just then. He needed to pay them back, then find his Uncle. He needed to keep his head level. Meaning no matter how dearly he wished to throw fire when Aang’s lemur began picking at his good ear, he had to let it go. 

...

Night settled low and quiet, the fire dying off, it’s smoke snaking thin into the cool air. 

“What happens now?” Katara all but whispered, looking to Sokka, who Zuko had learned was her brother in the small space of time they’d all had to wind down.

“I’m not sure,” He poked at the ashes in the fire’s pit, thinking. He fixed his gaze on Zuko, “How many ships will your father send to find you?”

“What?” 

Sokka couldn’t actually be asking that, could he? They’d seen Zhao throw him in that pit the same as them. Didn’t they know?

“We’re keeping you here both to stifle a threat to Aang, and because we have no idea what to do with you. I need to know how many men will be stationed to track you down.”

Zuko stared them each down, waiting for the ball to drop. But no, Sokka was being serious. 

“None.” He managed.

“What? You’re the crowned Prince, surely-,”

“I'm banished.”

If they’d been perplexed by him before, he could practically hear their curiosity boiling over now.

“You’re banished?” Sokka shouted. 

Why did it sound so accusatory?

“But then,” Aang started, his face pulled tight into confusion, “But aren’t you trying to capture me to bring to your father?”

“Yes,” Zuko said, clipping the word.

“ _Why?”_

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. _Breathe._

"Look. I've agreed to be civil. And out of gratitude for saving me life, I intend to stay true to that. But I don't owe you my past."

With that, he stood, brushing off the dirt from his pants, now free of protective layering, which lay somewhere in the treeline. "I'd like to sleep."

They were all still gaping at him, trying with varying success to hide their morbid curiosity. Aang broke first, but the others were quick to follow.

"Wait, guys, we don't have an extra bedroll," Aang said.

_You owe them, you owe them, you owe them, don’t breathe sparks you owe them-_

It was becoming exhausting to remind himself of his own personal deal, but at this point the night was dragging on and he was so, fucking, tired. 

Sokka stood as well, stretching as he did so, and moved over to where Katara had lain their baskets. He pulled out the tarp that had covered their stuff on the saddle, and moved to where Zuko stood.

“Here. You can use this as a blanket, and feel free to take the tent. We usually sleep out by the fire anyways.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes, regarding the tarp in the other boy’s hand. He was just exhausted enough to agree to this. He nodded, taking the tarp from Sokka. 

“Goodnight!” Aang called after him, far too loud.

_Good fucking night._

He needed to stay alert, assure they weren’t going to try anything while he slept.   
  


He was out in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that people other than myself have read this terrifies me. But damn this is too fun I'll just have to suck it up.
> 
> I know I'm blue-balling the backstory on his scar, but it still doesn't feel quite right. It just doesn't seem like something he'd tell them yet, but it's coming. I know that to make this au work things will have to be ooc at some points, but I really want to try and keep them in character as best I can, and that means some book1 Zuko traits are still here. And that's on an inability to be vulnerable.
> 
> Part two of this monster chapter should be up soon, I'm just having some trouble figuring out the 'why' of anything that's going on here. But hey, it's fun once I get there.
> 
> Hope to see you in the next one, thank you for reading!


	3. Stealing Is Okay When You're Stealing From Pirates. Especially If They Stole From You First.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tent? Pathetic.  
> The lemur? Ugly.  
> The bison? Gigantic.  
> Sokka? Wait. Where is he ✋😞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back!
> 
> Whew. Did it. I agonized over this one ngl, but now the story feels firmer in motion and I have lots of fun planned for future chapters so it needed to get written. 
> 
> I'm really excited for this one.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Dawn broke over the tree-line, settling the night into soft blues and purples, the bright orange and yellows of morning cracking their resolve. Zuko had been up for hours, watching the stars fade, and feeling the sun preparing to bring in the day. He’d been up for hours because he was thinking, and really? There wasn't much else to do in his situation. 

At first, he’d thought of how easy it would be to carry Aang, deep in sleep and oblivious, through the forest. He could almost humor miraculously finding his Uncle on their ship, somewhere on the shoreline, wherever that may be. But he couldn’t. And it went beyond his own desire to absolve his debts, he had no idea where Uncle was. He had no idea where _he_ was now in relation to the Fire Nation, and even if he did take Aang and make his own way, there was no way to assure the first War Ship he found wouldn’t be Zhao’s. He was utterly lost. And more than a little confused. 

It would all be so much easier if they’d kept him tied, denied him food, ignored him... _something_ other than help him. It’d be simple to turn around and betray their kindness had they not been so _decent_ afterwards. But this was just a mess. A big fucking mess and it was all his fault.

_It would be easier if you had just listened to Uncle. But you put everything at risk and now you don’t even know where he is. Let alone where you are._

Zuko sighed, the sun was rising higher in the sky, and he decided to retreat back into the tent. He really didn’t want to confront them all with his presence when they woke. He’d wait until they’d all had time to adjust beyond morning exhaustion before he reminded them that he was, in fact, still there. That moment didn’t come for some time, however, and he was becoming steadily irate at how long it was taking them all to stir. Eventually the waiting became brutal, what with his thoughts running a mile a minute and the enclosed _rag_ they had the gall to call a tent bristling against the morning breeze. 

_Fuck it._

Zuko left the tent for the second time, careful not to make any abrupt noise, however this time when he faced the camp, it was no longer dead. A small fire had taken home in their make-shift pit, and a flat pan rested above it, cooking some indiscernible food. Beside it was Katara, who sat with a bowl beside her, concentrating. She brought forth a small stream of water, and even from where he was standing it looked noticeably more confident and controlled than the previous night. A way to her right was Aang, who was chattering happily with the hideous lemur that seemed to make permanent residence on his shoulder.

Neither had taken notice of him, and he was grateful for that. He wasn’t ready for whatever interaction that morning would bring. But maybe it wouldn’t be so weird. He had, afterall, been true to his word. He’d even slept in that pathetic tent without any verbal complaint. 

_Nope. This is still very, very weird._

He was quick to notice Sokka was nowhere to be found, though he wasn’t sure where else the other boy would be, considering they still had a considerable stack of firewood. Whatever. 

His unnoted presence wasn't maintained for very long as he made his way over to where the others were, and Katara froze when she saw him. There was an immediate flash of concern in her eyes, but eventually she just returned to stoking the fire, shoving his existence off rather easily. 

“Good morning,” said Aang, voice obnoxiously chipper for this time of day. But Zuko nodded anyway, he didn’t want Aang to think he hadn’t heard him. He shifted his weight a bit, and glanced at Katara.

“Where’s Sokka?”

The question was out of his mouth before he could even consider how odd it was for him to notice, let alone ask, about where the other boy was.

She flinched a bit when he said her brother’s name, but if Katara found the question itself strange, she didn’t let it show, she simply shrugged and muttered, “Sleeping.” She turned her head the smallest bit to the left, where Sokka still slept, bundled up into his bulky sleeping bag. 

Left with nothing else to do, Zuko took to sitting crossed-legged opposite of Katara, watching the process of what looked like eggs cooking in the pan. It smelled decent, though he couldn’t pinpoint the spice Katara was sprinkling over top now and then between her scrambling. He scrunched his nose a bit, he’d never had eggs cooked that way, and it didn’t seem particularly appetizing. Silence grew cavernous between them, now left alone when Aang had gone off to feed his bison. 

_Well this is excruciating._

“Can I ask you something?” She said at last, dishing the eggs into three separate bowls, filling the fourth with a sad assortment of nuts and berries.

“Sure.”

He wasn’t actually sure if he wanted her to ask him anything, lest it lead to a conversation, but the silence had allowed his thoughts to creep back in, and a distraction was more than welcome.

“What is the protocol for the personal items of prisoners on those Earth Bender containment ships?”

_Huh?_

Why the fuck was she asking him that? 

His confusion must’ve been readily apparent, because she worked quickly to clarify, “I was in one, a while back. And I lost something. Something very important to me.” As she said it, her right hand moved up to brush her neck, where a necklace might lay.

“Oh.” He knew what she was talking about. He knew exactly what she was _referring_ to. He’d taken that necklace, he’d meant to use it as leverage. She was still looking at him, expectant. 

_Fuck, should I tell her? She’ll kill me if I tell her._

He decided at that moment not to tell her, but even deeper promised that if he ever found the damn thing, he’d return it. It really was exhausting owing the Avatar and his friends every other second for every little thing.

“I’m not sure. But if it was something of value, they may barter it off.”

“It was my mother’s necklace,” She said softly, hugging her arms to herself.

Well, he felt mind bogglingly awful for that. Why, he couldn’t say. But Katara was just a kid, and he knew that inflection, the subtle pain in how she’d said ‘mother.’ 

“I’m sorry.” He said, practically whispering. 

_Am I?_

She nodded, poking at the kindling beneath the pan. 

_This sucks._

...

The sun was fully out now, washing the campsite in swaths of light, and, despite the circumstances in which he was there, it was truly a gorgeous location. They were set up near a river, which rushed strong and crystalline, keeping the grass on its banks emerald and healthy. He could hear the roar of a waterfall a ways off, and was half tempted to go exploring for it. His Uncle would have eaten up the picturesque scenery. 

_“A perfect spot for the perfect cup of tea. Environment is essential.”_

Sokka had woken a good hour after he, Aang, and Katara had finished eating, and was having more than a time complaining about how cold his food was, ignoring Katara’s bitter resolve that if he wanted food warm, he ought to wake up with the rest of them.

Aang had taken to pacing up and down between where they sat and where his giant bison lay, locking and unlocking his fingers. It was beyond annoying, but at least Aang wasn’t trying to talk through whatever was bothering him. At least, until Katara had decided to make him.

“Aang,” She called after him as he started making his zillionth trip back from the bison, “What are you so worked up about?”

The boy turned to her, for a moment pausing his manic pattern, “Oh, I don’t know Katara! What could I possibly have to be stressed about?”

_Woah._

Zuko was almost impressed at how much bite Aang’s response had had. 

“Let me guess,” Sokka said, voice dripping with sardonic indifference, “It has to do with what Avatar Roku told you in the temple.”

“Yes!” Aang yelled, tossing his arms into the air emphatically. 

“And the fact that you have to become a fully formed Avatar by summer’s end or we’re all doomed?”

Zuko looked up at that. What were they talking about? He had until the end of summer to master all four elements? Was that normal? Aang’s panic was answer enough, that _no, it wasn't,_ but that didn’t explain why it was necessary. They didn’t actually believe rushing his Avatar progress would somehow end the war, did they? 

“Yes, Sokka! It takes _years_ for the Avatar to master all four elements! I haven’t even started waterbending, and we’re still _weeks_ away from the North Pole! I can’t fail again!”

Katara shot her brother a scathing look, folding her arms. It could have wilted a flower, but Sokka just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Zuko felt a tug of discomfort, it was almost disembodying to be here, with the Avatar and his friends, conversing over a breakfast they’d all shared. 

He snapped from that spiral immediately, scared to get lost within it.

“Aang,” Katara called, eyes looking sorrowfully onto the boy, “Come here.”

She extended her arm, gesturing for Aang to sit beside her. Amazingly, the boy complied, sitting down and curling into himself.

“I know it’s a lot, but you haven’t failed anyone. And you won't.” Aang released his shoulders a bit, but tensed again when Katara wrapped an arm around him, “I can teach you some of what I know. It’s not much, but it’s something."

Aang was silent at first, considering her offer. He leaned into her and nodded, “Thank you, Katara.”

Katara and Aang left soon after to practice the no doubt miniscule amount of bending she actually knew, and Sokka had been quick to follow, remarking how eager he was to swim. That left Zuko alone, and at a loss of what to do with himself. He felt the familiar tug to make a run for it, but was alarmingly quick to shoot it down. He chose to ignore _that_ observation. He thought about moving somewhere to run though some forms, this was the longest he’d gone without training in years, but eventually just opted to sit by the river side, as far away from the others as possible.

He sat cross-legged near the shallows, allowing the sounds of life around him to drown out his constant stream of tiring thought. It was odd now. He hadn’t afforded himself a moment of genuine peace since his banishment. The last few years had been fueled by his obsessive need to capture the Avatar. It was still there, but being in the Avatar’s debt had weakened it slightly. It was nice. Just to sit. 

It was nice, and he didn’t deserve it. 

He scowled into the water, careful not to lean too far and risk seeing his reflection. 

He knew subconsciously he was hideous, marred by the chunk of dead flesh that clung onto his visage as a constant reminder of his failure. But he hadn’t seen it. Glimpses, maybe. There wasn’t much use for mirrors aboard a war ship, and he counted himself lucky for that. 

_Don’t feel so sorry for yourself_. 

He sighed again, pretending for a moment he was somewhere else. Somewhere better.

_Ugh._

He scrunched his nose, a sharp pain breaking through the usual dull ache at the base of his skull.

_Breathe._

It was nice, the quiet. Zuko let himself sink into it, the brief serenity of the flowing water and rustling trees.

And then he was soaked in water from a tidal wave coming out of absolutely fucking no where.

_What was their fucking problem?_

He stood, practically radiating smoke, his previous moment of serenity lost with the settling wave that had disrupted the calming float of the turtle-ducks.

He made his way over to where the others had been, trying to quench the steam that was rolling off him as he got closer.

“What the-,”

“Aang!” He was cut off by an equally pissed Sokka, who had received far more of a drenching from the wave, “You just sent all of our supplies down river!”

Indeed, though they’d gained a shocking amount of distance, Zuko could make out the shape of the two supply baskets floating away down the disrupted river.

“Sorry!” Aang groaned, holding his head in his hands, embarrassed.

_Who gives a fuck if he’s embarrassed? I’m soaked to the skin!_

Katara was suspiciously silent, and he noticed how she was turned away from Aang, arms folded indignantly.

“What happened?” He found himself snapping.

Aang glanced at him, a grimace plastered on his face.

“We were just, practicing waterbending and Katara, she was showing me how to make a wave-,”

“Not that you needed any instruction,” She said, failing miserably to cover her bitterness.

“I’m sorry!” Aang cried again.

She shook her head, but even before she broke it was obvious she had no intention of staying mad at him, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so, so _jealous._ You’re just so good naturally and, I'm sorry, Aang.”

_Wait what the fuck? Why was she so measured? Who stays mad for twenty seconds? What was this?_

“Regardless, you still sent all of our supplies _down the river_ ,” Sokka said, but he directed it at both Aang and Katara.

“I didn’t!” She shouted, offended.

“You encouraged the wave that did.”

Finally, some sense. 

Katara raised her eyebrow, staring down her brother. 

_Oh no._

Katara wasn’t especially gifted in her bending, or rather, not confident enough in it to be gifted, but Zuko was certain if she needed to she could use it to attack Sokka. He was a non-bender, this would be bad-

“We flew over a town. We’ll just restock there,” Katara said. 

Sokka grumbled, sinking back into the water.

_Huh?_

_Weren’t they going to fight?_

Zuko couldn’t help but be confused, they were all so fucking _weird._

...

The village itself was rather underwhelming, the buildings blending monotonously into each other. They’d all dried off rather quick, Aang holding nothing back when he punched them with a vacuum of air. They’d opted to walk towards the town, and though the formation went unspoken, it was very clear they walked to encircle Zuko, making sure there was someone ready to defend from any angle should he choose to attack.

Aang broke away first, easily bored by the strenuous process Katara and Sokka were taking to choose their new supplies. Katara was next, satisfied with her purchases of food, and eager to find a new waterskin. That left him and Sokka, the latter of which was more than consumed with the shopping. 

Zuko really hadn’t meant to. He just happened to be done with glowering at the dirt when he’d looked up. But as it happened, he glanced up just as Sokka was leveling his bag, newly filled with supplies he’d spent ages picking out.

_Oh._

_Stop staring. Fuck, stop staring you're making this so weird, stop staring._

_Oh fuck! He noticed. He noticed._

_Set something on fire._

_Actually, don't do that, just stop staring, and why was everything so warm? Shit, he looks confused._

_Wait._

_Why is_ he _still looking? Fix this._

Zuko contorted his expression into a sneer, and finally looked away. His face still felt too warm.

 _There. Fixed it._ But what the fuck was that? Jealousy? He was stronger than Sokka no question, he wasn't jealous. Fine.

_Then what was that?_

He pushed it far, far down, a creeping feeling of disgust settling in his gut. He should’ve set something on fire.

“We should meet back up with Katara,” Sokka said, sounding unaffected. 

Zuko just nodded, walking off without any other prompting. 

Katara was easy enough to find, gushing over her new waterskin, which she boasted could easily hold a liter more of water than her old one. Aang seemed to appear from nowhere, and proudly presented a whistle that bore resemblance in shape to his Bison. Aang then blew all of his lung capacity into the whistle, and it came out scratchy and cringe inducing. 

He’d bought a broken whistle.

Zuko wasn’t even a part of their group and found himself upset that Aang had wasted money on that stupid toy.

... 

They were walking along a docking area, the high of shopping wearing off amongst the others when Aang called them over. 

_When had he even stopped walking with them?_

Aang was standing beside a weasel of a man, his own innocence clouding him from the obvious sceavy way the man was luring them in.

“Oddities! Treasures! Do you dare to take a look?”

He waited for the moment Katara would tell Aang to keep moving, or for Sokka to start talking down to the man, uprooting his confidence. But they seemed just as naively intrigued as Aang. They weren’t actually going to go in, where they?

...

Yes, in fact, they were. Zuko stalked near the door, arms crossed. The others wandered the small cabin happily, poking and prodding the various objects that crowded the walls. 

It was an impressive stock, but they were so obviously stolen goods. Thankfully he wasn’t the only one to catch on, Sokka was more than suspicious of the salesman, asking him increasingly vilifying questions, but Aang and Katara were crowded around a shabby shelf, murmuring excitedly over _something_ . He rolled his eyes, _they were so stupid._

He was ready to walk out of the cabin and wait for them to realize this was all a scam, or be thrown out for having no money. Whatever came first. But just as he’d confirmed that plan of action, he saw them.

Hung far into the back of the cabin, suspended on the wooden wall, were opera masks. They were _beautiful_. His walk towards them was almost unconscious, as if he were being pulled to them, rather than making a direct decision.

There were all sorts of masks, some he recognized, some he’d never seen before. All expertly crafted. He felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, mixing with a bubbling anger. 

“What are these?” He nearly jumped, counting them all lucky he hadn’t reacted on instinct and hurled fire at the disruptor. But it was only Sokka, who had moved beside him to look at the masks, his eyes lidded with obvious boredom. 

“Opera masks.” He answered, hoping his voice conveyed how much he deeply didn’t want to talk.

“You’re a fan of opera?” Sokka asked, smirking. 

_Is he mocking me?_

“No.”

Sokka’s smirk disappeared, replaced with confusion. But eventually he shrugged, moving away. 

Zuko looked over the masks again, trying to identify which piece they came from, but most were just standard use, holding no definitive character. But it was there, on his second scan, that he froze.

The mask he locked his gaze on was significantly different from the others, toned in blue and white, jutting out against the reds and greens that filled that wall. The mask of The Blue Spirit; a figure he’d seen in several iterations from old Earth Kingdom plays. Maybe it was only a copy. There were bound to be hundreds, in troupes all over the Earth Kingdom. But he moved closer, and there it was:

A miniscule imperfection, sitting on the cheek of the mask, a chip in the paint. He knew that chip, he knew how it had gotten there. 

He was furious. 

Zuko barely comprehended the image of Aang failing to barter with the Captain of the ship, his face open and innocent, he pushed his way to the older man’s attention, placing the mask down in front of them, “Where do you get this?”

It was hard not to sound like he was shouting in such a small space.

“Where did you get this?” He asked again, desperate.

The man sneered, clearly offended by his accusatory tone, “We took it off a war ship.”

“Where?” 

“In neutral waters between here and the Fire Nation. The ship had been abandoned, so we generously saved it’s many _artifacts_.”

_Abandoned?_

The world became still, impossibly small. 

_Uncle-_

“We need to go.”

It was Katara, she sounded on edge, but she’d directed it to all of them.

“But-,” Aang began.

“She’s right,” Sokka confirmed, “We can’t trust these guys.”

“Guys, don’t be so-,”

“They’re pirates,” Sokka said.

Zuko reached for the mask, but the Captain was quicker, holding it back, “We prefer to think of ourselves as ‘high-risk traders.’”

He clenched his fists, he’d burn the entire ship down if he needed-

“Come on.” Katara urged, _what was she so concerned about?_

Zuko stared the man down a moment longer, watching as his revolting hands enclosed around the mask, _his_ mask. He turned around and stormed off the ship, and never looked back. He would've set the entire thing ablaze if he had.

They all moved quickly down the docking area, though he couldn’t be sure who was guiding their pace. Katara looked like she was going to be sick, but she kept moving, faster than any of them.

“Hey!” A shout came from behind them, deep and guttural.

_What the-_

“Run!” Katara yelled, taking off a second later. He didn't have time to think about it, and soon enough they were weaving back through the town, running from the dock and out into the woods. None of them stopped for breath until they broke through to their camp, each collapsing heartily into the plush grass, chests heaving.

“What was that, Katara?” Sokka asked, breaking the silence at last, “Why were they so upset?”

She heaved a moment longer, moving to grab something she’d hidden in her dress. “More than likely because I took this.” She extracted a thin, glossy scroll, headed by two brilliant blue stones. 

“You stole the scroll?” Sokka asked, incredulous.

“I prefer to think of it as ‘high risk trading’,” She said, grinning.

She couldn’t be serious.

“You risked all our lives, _for a scroll?”_

Katara glared at her brother, “They stole it first. It's a waterbending scroll, Sokka. They stole it from a waterbender!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Sokka muttered, walking off to sit alone. 

He was right, of course. But Zuko couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy for Katara’s initiative. She’d probably taken it while he’d been busy shouting at the Captain. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, maybe then he could’ve taken his mask back.

…

Zuko was still turning it over in his mind hours into the nighttime, angry he’d reacted so strongly. He would have stolen it, why couldn’t he ever just do the right thing? 

Though the right thing was starting to become a muddled concept, it was all just too much. He never thought he’d miss his Uncle, and if the old man were to show up suddenly and extend his advice, Zuko knew he’d brush it off, rudely sidelining the very pertinent wisdom. But he still wanted it. 

Weirder still was his inability to just make a run for it. They were all sleeping now, and he knew he could make it far enough away from their camp in the remaining hours before the dawn. But still he lay in the tent, wrapped in their tarp. Because, in a way he’d never admit openly and could barely understand himself, he _didn’t_ despise being in the Avatar’s company. They were all odd, and they clearly were as thrown by his presence as he was theirs, but they were _kids._ And they were kind of...calming? Stupid, and more than a little over their heads, but also kind of _okay_ to be around. And sometimes Sokka was almost funny, and Aang almost reminded him of Uncle when he’d taken on that serious demeanor, and Katara, while more than a little insufferable, was also weirdly attentive to everyone, even _him._ And it was weird, more than likely fueled by their proven decision not to let him die, he didn’t feel in danger here. Perhaps not all together safe, but even now he didn’t fear waking up with a knife to his throat. He’d never known anyone his age outside of Azula’s friends, and even then he’d never known anyone his age who wasn’t a girl. He’d convinced himself he’d thus far stayed out of morbid curiosity and the need to settle his debts. But the moments he’d been in the Avatar’s company, aside from tying him to that tree, it could almost feel like it used to with Azula and her friends all those years ago. Light, and addicting. Because if they could be kids, maybe he could, too? 

He turned over, grimacing. This was horrible. He felt horrible. He didn't need to be a kid, he needed to be _home._ And he couldn’t do that here. He couldn’t do that in this context. He felt a rising panic, _he needed to get out of here. Now._

He threw the tarp aside, leaving the tent. What did he care about honoring debts? It wasn’t as if he had any honor worth protecting. Besides, maybe not taking Aang would be enough to balance the situation.

_But you’re still going to try. Maybe not now. But when you do find Uncle you’ll be back on the hunt. You couldn’t stop it even if you wanted. You have no honor. You’re pathetic._

Why couldn’t his brain just shut the fuck up for five minutes? He stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes and feeling a pang of insult at the conditions he’d let himself exist in these last two days.

Zuko was making his way over to the tree-line, careful to be quiet and resolute, when he noticed it. The other three lay in a circle around the dying fire, and Aang and Sokka were still happily asleep, if taken occasionally by shivers that the flame-eaten wood couldn’t fend off. But Katara was nowhere to be found. Her sleeping bag was stuffed with some of the hay he’d seen Aang feeding the bison, the various strands seeping through the place where her head ought to be. He could recall hearing some scuffing around the camp a while ago, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own crisis to care much for it. Now, the dots were connecting quick and he felt, well, he felt annoyed, really. He’d been set to leave, but if Katara was wandering around the camp, who’s to say he wouldn’t run into her? Not that she would in any way be a hurdle, but he didn’t really feel like fighting her off. _Weird._ Besides, if any assumption he’d made about Katara was correct, she wasn’t absent for need of a ‘midnight walk,’ she was practicing her bending. 

Which was astronomically stupid, given the day’s previous events. but he couldn’t really call anyone out on doing something inherently dumb. He took one last look at the tree-line, imagining how simple it would be to move forward, and leave them all behind. The path was laid, and it was comforting. But, in a second he was moving closer to where Sokka slept, his mind being taken along with every horrible reality that could explain Katara’s absence. 

“Sokka.” He whispered lightly, poking at the Water Tribe boy’s exposed arm. He didn’t even stir. Zuko took a deep breath and tried again, “Sokka,” he said, a little more urgency in his tone, shaking Sokka’s arm with his hand. This time he did grumble a bit, but he was still effectively asleep.

“Sokka, it’s your sister,” He said, this time opting to push his arm back, hoping the reverberating movement would force him awake. 

Sokka shot up immediately, accidentally pushing Zuko over with his movement. He knew seeing his face wouldn’t exactly calm Sokka down, so he put up his arms in surrender. When Sokka did notice him, he didn’t relax at all, in fact he tensed up further, confusion and wariness flashing quick in his eyes. 

“Zuko?” Sokka asked, fighting back a yawn.

“Katara’s missing,” Zuko said, pushing back the weird lump that had started to form in his throat. He seriously was starting to wonder if he was catching a cold. 

With that, Sokka became alert and scrambled out of his sleeping bag, moving over to Katara’s. He patted the bag, flipping it and dumping the hay out of it. 

“ _Spirits_. She’s unbelievable.” Sokka grumbled, rubbing his forehead, exasperated. Sokka looked over at Aang, debating something in his mind. Then he moved to the young boy, pushing him awake, “Aang. Wake up.”

The spritely airbender was up instantly, standing upright and sending a light gust of wind whipping past the others, “What? Is it Fire Nation?” 

“No, actually, Zuko’s still here.” Sokka replied.

Zuko narrowed his eyes, that _wasn’t_ what Aang had asked-

“It’s Katara. She isn’t here, and neither is her scroll.”

Huh. Zuko actually hadn’t noticed that detail, a few more things clicked into place.

“Oh. Okay?” Aang tilted his head, confused.

“Something feels off about this. She should be back,” Sokka said, holding his chin in his hand, thinking.

“I agree with Sokka,” His voice came out scratchy and timid, and he had half a mind to clamp his mouth back shut, but the other two looked on at him, open to hearing what he had to say, “She left hours ago.”

“To practice the water whip.” Aang offered, but he sounded weighed down by a strange guilt. 

“Sure,” Zuko said, lost as to the relevance of that.

“So, what are you thinking?” 

He froze. Sokka had directed the question at him. Aang and Sokka were actually looking at him. He thought he might throw up. He pushed through that urge and took a breath, avoiding looking at either, “I’m thinking that if someone took a waterbending scroll from me, the very first place I’d look is on the water. And if Katara did leave to practice-,”

“She may have been taken by the Pirates.” Sokka finished, nodding.

“Well then we need to go after her!” Aang cemented, flipping into action. 

“Yes, but let's be smart about it,”Sokka said.

“Sokka, what if she’s been captured?” Aang asked, incredulous at the other boy’s firm resolve. 

“Then we need to be smarter than her, and them.” 

Sokka stood then, and began to scan around the camp. He neared the trees to the right of them and crouched down. “Over here!”

Aang was quick to walk over, his staff now planted tight in his hand. Zuko was still, though, and looked to the trees to the left of them. 

_They’re distracted. Just go for it._

“Zuko?” Aang was calling him over. He took one last long look at the woods, picturing the path he was sure it would take him on, simple and decided.

_Fuck._

And then he was on his feet, walking over to where the others were, ignoring the screaming that had begun in the back of his mind.

Sokka was actually a fairly skilled tracker, he identified the cracked branches that laid out a fairly comprehensible path of Katara’s movements, and took extra care in maintaining silence while also working quickly. If he hadn’t been fighting off nausea for the entire journey, he might have been impressed. 

It’s hard to say who ran into who. In any case, one moment he and Aang were following diligently behind Sokka, and the next they were moving to the side as Katara crashed hard into her brother, sending them both over.

“Sokka!” She cried out, sounding happier to see her brother than he could ever recall. Sokka shoved her off, helping them both to their feet. 

“Katara! What are you doing?”

She immediately took the defensive, “I was practicing.”

“I knew it. You took the scroll to train yourself, you didn’t care about teaching Aang.”

Her face twisted into indignation, “Of course I did! But, Sokka, this isn’t just any waterbending scroll! This is a _Southern_ waterbending scroll! Do you know that that means?”

“It came from the South?”

“Don’t act smart. It means these forms, they’re from _our_ tribe. They’re _our_ bending forms,” She said, her eyes glassy and pleading. She seemed all together heart broken and invigorated, it was strange to witness.

But Sokka softened, if only a little, “Fine. But don’t sneak off again. We thought you may have been captured by the Pirates.”

Katara’s face fell, “Well-,”

“What?” Sokka snapped, previous levity disappearing. 

But his answer came swift and on cue, as a dagger just barely grazed his shoulder, planting its tip in a tree. 

Just as suddenly, the tension broke and they were blindsided by an entire crew of men, and a sudden explosive pop conjured a thick green smoke, blinding them.

They began to run immediately, and he was able to stumble out of the forest and felt terrain that could vaguely be dirt, but more pops sounded and the smoke grew thicker and spread wider.

"Aang!" Someone, Katara? Called out.

"Katara!" That sounded like Sokka.

"Guys!" That was Aang. They all sounded close, but Zuko couldn't discern anything other than their voices. "Guys I'm over here! Follow my voice!"

It sounded like he was ahead of them and to the right. He moved forward, grateful the smoke was beginning to thin, when he found himself nose to tip on the business end of a Cutlass. 

_Fuck fuck fuck-_

Zuko ducked low, pushing his elbow up and jabbing into the man's arm.

As suspected, his hold was weak and the sword clattered to the ground. Zuko took no time to observe his handiwork and pressed on. He could make out the sounds of conflict, but couldn’t place any of them as being from Aang, Katara, or Sokka. 

Finally, _finally,_ the smoke cleared and he could accurately make out the scene. They’d all emerged onto a shoreline, and the looming ship they’d been perusing only hours before was crudely driven into the sand, docked quickly and with little care. Aang had made it the furthest, and was fending of five of the Captain’s men, sweeping them away like nothing. Katara wasn’t far off from him, backing up on the defensive, not even trying to attack. He couldn’t place Sokka but that was only until he found himself with a mouthful of dirt and the full weight of another person’s body on him. 

Sokka groaned in pain, “We have to stop meeting like this." 

_Who the fuck cracks a joke in this situation?_

Zuko moved to stand, pushing Sokka off him in the process and sending him unceremoniously into the dirt. 

“Ow,” Sokka said, pushing himself up easily. 

“Sokka!” Katara cried out. She and Aang were, well, they were _pushing_ the docked ship out onto the water with a wave.

“On it!” Sokka replied, moving forward.

_Huh? On what? What were they doing?_

Zuko was beyond lost, but between the Avatar and a band of angry Pirates? Well, at least the Avatar wasn’t willing to kill him. He followed behind Sokka best he could but there were far more Pirates than them and even with Aang and the shocking amount of luck Zuko knew those three possessed...they weren’t going to make it. 

_What does Uncle always say?_

_Breathe._

Zuko stopped, taking in a deep fill of air and imagining exactly what he wanted his fire to do. 

It was a fake move, built upon a basic lesson he'd been taught as a child, but if it worked, _and it better fucking work_ , they might be able to get away. 

_Breathe_.

He drew forth a line of fire, separating them from the advancing Pirates. It stopped before the treeline and barely graced the water. It was the most controlled effort he'd ever attempted, _and it had worked._ His Uncle would have applauded his success.

He turned around then, knowing the flame would dissipate on its own, staying in its strict line. And whatever he'd expected when he'd turned, the look of terror plastered on Sokka's face as he gazed at the fire, _his_ fire, wasn't it.

_Why do you feel so gutted?_

He _didn't,_ he decided. He was only annoyed. Sokka shook himself then, fumbling to take hold onto the ship Katara and Aang had successfully lulled back into the water. They weren't waiting. They were going to leave him behind.

_Now's your chance. Take it. Run off._

But he couldn't. Screw the rest of it, he wanted his fucking mask back. So he ran towards the vessel, jumping high and vaulting onto the deck. The effort wasn't extreme, but he was still somewhat winded by his earlier feat of bending. 

He looked up to see the other three. Wary, confused, and as always, jarringly young. He ignored them, pushing past and into the cabin where all the stolen goods lay. 

The cabin was empty and cold, the previous air of mystery and warm lantern light gone and replaced with a shadowed chill. Zuko found the mask immediately, propped on the wall where it had been earlier, and took it, leveling it in his hands before moving on to search the rest of the cabin. It was no feat to find his stolen things, he found tapestries, rugs, candles, even _bedsheets_ in the various nooks of the cabin. He knew he couldn't take it all, but he couldn’t just leave _everything_. He took a sack from behind the Captain’s counter and was lucky to find one large enough that his mask, some clothing, the various scrolls his Uncle would sometimes use for instruction, and his dual broadswords, which he’d found strewn carelessly in a chest of rusted weapons. Zuko chose to stop there, this sack couldn’t be too heavy, who knew how long he’d have to lug it around. But as he took one final look around the cabin, he saw it. Small, and hidden on a shelf full of small items. It was a Pai Sho tile, the paint faded, the edges dulled with use. He thought the pattern on it may be a lotus flower, but he’d never actually partaken in a game with his Uncle. He took the tile, placing it in the bag, and shoving the panic of what may have happened to his Uncle and his ship from his mind. 

When Zuko emerged, the scene before him was utter chaos. The ship was turning at far too sharp an angle, and had he not taken hold of the cabin’s door frame, he would have fallen over. 

Aang and Katara stood on opposite ends of the deck, moving their arms as if they were bending, the ship turned completely to its side. Some of the tension settled, but Aang and Katara were still moving, their shoulders held tight and faces concentrated. 

“Aang! I can’t-,”

“You can Katara! Just hold, and breathe!” But even in his assurance, the young airbender seemed to be losing his own hold. 

_What the fuck is going on?_

The answer came as the ship lurched forward, sending both Aang and Katara crashing back, and then they were all moving forward, far too fast. Zuko realized too late they were going over a waterfall, managing to grasp his bag before it fell away. The free fall was horrible, sending his stomach plummeting and mind reeling. 

It was impossible to register anything beyond the roar of the waterfall and the sensation of falling, but miraculously he found his fall broken, caught onto a hard surface, knocking the air from his lungs. A moment longer and he realized the sick sensation he felt wasn’t from falling. It was from ascending. 

_The bison!_

He was finally able to concentrate on his surroundings, breathing heavy, death grip on his bag. He was in the bison’s saddle, the waterfall far below them.

The others were also there, Sokka and Katara heaving as Aang stood, proudly displaying his shitty whistle. 

“I _knew_ it would come in handy! Thanks, buddy,” Aang said, moving to sit at the bison’s head, _hugging_ it. 

But Zuko was grateful all the same. Still confused as to how any of the previous events had transpired, but glad to not be shattered by the drop off the waterfall. 

Aang guided them back to camp, settling his Bison closer to the river, not wanting to be close to the tree-line. 

They settled around the campfire, for once not bothering to talk or think about anything other than the fact that they’d made it out alive. Aang and Katara briefly regaled what they’d been doing, Aang congratulating Katara on their job well done. Apparently the only reason they hadn’t gone over immediately was because Aang and Katara had bended two whirlpools, holding the vessel in place. 

Dawn had just started to break over the horizon, and, despite having had no competent sleep, Zuko was completely wired, acutely aware of the bag he still held tight in his hands. 

He knew they noticed his new sack. How could they not? It was large and bulky. But they didn't confront him on it. Even though he could have had anything in there. They didn't ask. Strange. He'd expected them to throw it over the bison's saddle the moment they caught him with it. But now, even as they'd settled into a post-catastrophic ease, it was left alone. Surely they didn't trust him. Did they have no self preservation whatsoever? Eventually he became so consumed with confusion he moved to sit by the river side, distracting his mind with the slight bubble of the current. And they seemed more than content to ignore him.

When his presence was acknowledged, it was Sokka who’d moved to sit beside him, shoulders tense and gaze averted. 

“Thank you.”

_Huh?_

Sokka cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, “For stopping them. Earlier, with the-,” He threw his arms up, a poor mockery of what Zuko had done earlier with the line of fire. 

He didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“Well, anyway,” Sokka continued exaggerating his inflection, “We thought, uhm. Well we didn’t expect you to, yeah. But!” 

Zuko flinched a little, Sokka was far too close to have said that so loud.

Sokka drew a breath, trying to start again, “I don’t know why you’re here. But I have my own guesses. I heard what the Captain said, about your ship.”

 _Of course you did. I was shouting,_ he thought bitterly, not wanting to dissect that reality just yet.

“And I know you have nowhere to go. And Aang, he’s an optimist.”

None of this was connecting.

“Here,” Sokka said, holding out a pile of clothing. It was plain, Earth Kingdom in style and coloring. 

_When had they bought this?_

“I don’t know why,” Sokka continued, “But I do know that you’re lost. And if you’d like, we would have you travel with us.”

_What the fuck?_

His expression must have made his thoughts abundantly clear, because Sokka turned away, sighing. When he spoke again, his voice was leveled, trying to maintain a firm calm, “I don’t know why you’re so dead set on taking Aang. I mean, I know part of it is because you're Fire Nation, and everyone from the Fire Nation is a jerk. However, I’m not going to pry, either. I just want your word that you won't try and hurt him. I know you’re no longer welcome in your nation, and I know there are some who see you as no more than what we are, who see you as a traitor.”

Ah, so they _had_ perceived that bit. 

“But I also know that if you wanted to leave us. You would have by now. I’m guessing you think you owe us a debt.”

Zuko’s eyes widened, how the fuck had he gotten it _that_ on target?

Sokka nodded, taking Zuko’s shock as confirmation, “Okay. So you owe us. And until you’ve paid that debt, you’re with us. Temporary allies, I guess.”

This was infuriating. Sokka didn’t know anything, he was talking as if he’d had this figured out for a long time. And _allies? Was he fucking serious?_

He’d tallied his debts in his mind, he knew what he owed. And he would pay it back.

“Lets see. We saved you from the temple. That’s one. And I saved you from falling off Appa, that’s two,” It was as if Sokka could read his thoughts, though it was now Zuko realized that the other boy was _always_ thinking, even when making his absurd jokes. Sokka was actually kind of smart. Kind of. “You drew the line of Fire, that’s one.”

“No.”

Sokka startled a bit at the response, clearly content to talk aloud without reply.

“What do-,”

“That line of fire saved me, too. It doesn’t count.”

“But thats-,”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Sokka stood then, hesitating a moment more before shaking his head and walking back to the others, muttering under his breath.

Zuko sighed, gazing back over the water. 

_Two life debts, a missing Uncle, and a brush with Pirates._

He wasn’t sure how long his time in the Avatar’s company would be, but he knew one thing; it would certainly be eventful. 

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I was watching Book 1 to get reacquainted with how everyone's characters are and guess what? The book 1 armor DOES tie from the sides! My brain is working and my meat is huge😤
> 
> Anyway, hope you had a good time. Still trying to keep it reasonable, but I did give y'all a little moment. You're welcome. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope to see you in the next one!
> 
> (And no. The ponytail will not be cut off prematurely. We must wait for it to be symbolically relevant😗✌)


	4. What Is A Leader, If Not The Person You Trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Sorry for the wait but this chapter kicked my ass.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and to the lovely indivduals who keep validating me in the comments...congratulations now I'm fully commited to writing this fic and it is gonna be a LONG road. But I'm excited!
> 
> See you at the end!

It had been two days since the incident with the Pirates. Three since the situation with Avatar Roku and the Temple, and, damn, Sokka’s mind hadn’t been giving him peace for four days straight. Even now, as they all sat lazy under the shade of the forest they’d camped in the previous night, his mind was spinning, trying to balance a thousand things at once. 

First, and above all, was the fact that he was carting around the world with the Avatar, a figure that had all but disappeared from modern history, and who now took the form of a twelve year old who would sometimes have an occasional freak out that displayed massive elemental power. Fine, whatever. 

Second, was the promise he and Katara had walked themselves into that went unspoken. They’d take Aang to the North Pole, and he and Katara would harness their weird water magic. But after? When the kid had to face off his new destiny, to take down the Firelord? Yeah, they’d be there for that, too. At least, he assumed they would. Everything had been happening at lightning speed since Katara had taken his club and hacked Aang out of that iceberg, but he knew that they couldn't just drop the kid at the North Pole and leave. Katara wouldn’t ever abandon Aang, he knew that now, and Sokka could never abandon his sister. 

Third, and most apparent in Sokka’s mind in the present moment, was how he’d essentially brought a bomb into their camp, hoping against all precedent it wouldn’t go off and set everything aflame. Sokka had been wracking his mind with stress ever since they’d untied Zuko from that tree and more or less come to a shaky peace. Because he knew that if this went bad, if their new travel companion finally realized he could just start shooting fire and make it out, if either Katara or Aang got hurt, it would be _his_ fault. And that had begun to consume him more than anything else. Because he didn’t know how to plan for it. He had nothing but assumption and anticipation.

He hated it.

“Wait!” Aang cried out, jumping up from where he’d been drawing spirals in the dirt. Sokka flinched back, the new vocal disruption snapping him from his thoughts. Aang looked around wildly, hovering slightly from the ground when he moved, “Where’s Momo?”

As if on cue, a strangled animal cry came from a ways off in the trees, and they were all on their feet. Well, _almost_ all. Sokka noted that Zuko didn’t move, he was still staring at the dirt, oblivious to the world around him. 

_He’s going to try and run away_.

_Let him._

Maybe it could erase some of the constant stress Sokka was under. He hesitated a second more before following after Katara and Aang. 

The scene they came upon was airborne, three metal traps suspended high above them, each holding a distressed animal. Momo was in the center, reacting to seeing Aang with an excited chatter. 

“I’m coming, buddy!” Aang yelled, spinning high into the air and leaping from the trunk of the tree to hang off the grand branch the traps were strung upon, untying Momo and sending his cage crashing down. 

“Okay,” Aang started, voice dripping with sympathy, “You too.” He started crawling over to where the other animals were tied. 

_Ugh, this is taking forever._

Sokka leveled his boomerang and quickly assessed the angle he’d have to throw it, sending the boomerang flying. As he’d calculated, the sharpest edge of his boomerang struck against the other cage’s ropes, sending them to the ground in one swift motion.

“That works!” Aang called cheerily from above, still hanging from the branch. 

Sokka knelt down to where Momo’s cage was, assessing the metal work and pulling two of the bars back, flattening the trap and freeing the lemur. Momo lept out easily, greedily munching on lychee nuts. 

Aang and Katara freed the other entrapped animals and joined Sokka where he still sat, staring at the metal trap.

“These traps are Fire Nation,” He finally said, holding his chin with his right hand, “You can tell by the metal work. The welding makes a pattern that looks like flames.” He ran a hand along one of the bars.

“Very interesting,” Katara said, and he could practically _hear_ her eyes rolling.

“No, very _threatening_ ,” Sokka shot back, standing at last, “These traps were laid recently. We’re close to a Fire Nation encampment.”

...

Aang and Katara split off when they returned to camp, eagerly packing up while Momo balanced on Aang’s left shoulder, happily munching on lychee nuts. 

To Sokka’s surprise, Zuko was still there. Except he’d changed from sitting and scowling at the dirt, to leaning against a tree and scowling at the dirt.

_Versatile._

Sokka walked over to where he was, averting his gaze ever so slightly. Zuko didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed a bit.

“We’re packing up camp. We found hunting traps, I think we’re close to a Fire Nation camp,” Sokka said, testing the waters. 

If Zuko was smart, this would be his chance to attack and run. But if, as Sokka has suspected, he _wasn’t_ smart, he’d ignore everything Sokka had said and remain with them. 

Sure enough, he gave Sokka the smallest of glances before returning to the dirt. _Must be some interesting patterns in the soil._

He’d gotten close to understanding why Zuko was still there, that night by the river had helped place a few more pieces into place, but he was still ready for the inevitable bomb to drop. It had to be coming. Deeper, however, and in a place Sokka didn’t quite want to consider just yet, he wondered if the reason their new companion hadn’t run off was less a matter of debt and more to do with immediate safety. They now knew his ship had been abandoned, and Sokka remembered the Temple. They’d chained Zuko up just as they’d chained him and Katara, then...Sokka shuddered to remember the way Zhao’s men had just tossed him down that staircase. And, of course, Sokka couldn’t quite shake the memory of how Zuko had dropped his guard, just for a moment, when Zhao brought up his father. That wasn’t just fear. It was terror. And it was so, _so_ confusing.

Sokka closed his eyes, shaking himself from his thinking. It was an irrelevant consideration in their current situation. They were close to a Fire Nation camp. Focus. 

“Wait!” He called out, holding Katara back from loading their sleeping bags onto Appa’s saddle. Aang and Katara turned to him, Aang tilting his head and Katara raising an eyebrow. “We shouldn’t fly this time.”

“Excuse me?” His sister asked, dropping her supplies to cross her arms.

“It’s just a hunch. I think it’s best if we walk this time.”

“Why?” Aang inquired, eyes wide in a freakishly childish way. 

“It’s Appa.”

“What? Why can’t we fly on Appa?” Aang cried, rushing to hug one of Appa’s large legs.

“Like I said, it’s just a hunch. I think we ought to travel on foot for now.”

“A hunch?” Katara mocked. 

“Yeah, Katara. My instincts tell me we should avoid air travel for a while. I’ve been mulling it over for a few days, actually. How do you think the Fire Nation keeps finding us?”

“Persistence?"

“ _No_. It’s Appa. He’s too noticeable.”

“What? Appa’s not too noticeable,” She said, incredulous.

“Yes, he is,” Zuko interjected. Spirits, it was easy to forget he was there, “He’s a gigantic flying bison.”

“Exactly,” Sokka agreed, ignoring the fact that his only support was coming from Zuko, “The arrow on his head doesn’t exactly help him blend in, either.”

“Don’t listen to them, buddy,” Aang assured Appa, petting his head, “They’re just jealous they don’t have arrows.”

“Look, as the leader-,” Sokka began, lifting his head a bit.

“Leader? _You’re_ the leader?” Katara cut him off.

“ _Yes_ , I am.”

“But your voice still cracks.”

“So?” Shit. It did crack.

“Besides,” She continued, graciously ignoring how he’d just proved her point, “If anyone’s the leader it’s Aang. He is the Avatar, afterall.

Okay that was just ridiculous.

“But he’s just a goofy kid,” Sokka said. And, as if on cue, Aang was now hanging upside down from one of Appa’s horns, grinning.

“He’s right, Katara,” Aang said, laughing.

“Well why do we need a leader anyway? Boys always think there needs to be a leader.” She muttered.

“I’m the oldest, I lead.” Sokka cemented.

“Not anymore,” Aang said, landing lithely on his feet.

_Unhelpful and irrelevant._

Katara huffed, “Who cares about age? And you’re not a leader, Sokka. You’re just bossy.”

“I am _not_ bossy.” 

Spirits, did she really want to argue this? Right now?

“I bet you wouldn’t be so bossy if you kissed a girl!” 

He sputtered, what did she-, she didn’t-

“I’ve kissed a girl!” He finally managed.

Sokka knew he shouldn’t be feeding her antagonism, but she was so _stupid_ -

“Oh yeah, who?” Katara taunted, one eyebrow raised.

He gulped. 

Did Suki count? Sure, it had been a kiss on the cheek, but he still blushed when he thought about it. 

Better not admit that to his little sister.

“You’ve never met her.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Was it gran-gran? I’ve met gran-gran.”

“ _Besides_ gran-gran. _Spirits_ , why am I even arguing this with you, we need to-,”

Katara laughed, cruelly,

“I bet even _he’s_ kissed more girls than you!” She pointed to Zuko, who looked scandalized before realizing what she’d said was an insult to _both_ of them. Then he just looked pissed. Fair enough, in this instance.

“Enough!” Sokka shouted. This conversation was over, “Look, we’re walking. End of discussion. My instincts tell me this is the best thing for us to do.”

Katara backed off, but her eyes were still alight with whatever comeback she’d thought up.

“You’re right, Sokka,” Aang said, brushing off the tension of their argument easily, “Maybe walking will be fun!”

…

“Walking _sucks._ ” Aang lamented for the fiftieth time since they’d started. 

Sokka couldn’t blame him, his feet ached and his shoulders hurt, too.

“My bag is so heavy.” Aang continued, dragging his speech emphatically.

“You know who you should ask to carry it for you?” Katara responded, her voice chipper in a way it only was when she was going to tease you mercilessly, “Sokka’s instincts.”

Sokka squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. 

_Don’t throw your bag at Katara. Don’t do it._

“How long are we gonna have to walk?” Aang whined.

“I don’t know, Aang. You know who should ask?”

_Does she think she’s funny?_

“Sokka’s instincts?” Aang finished.

“Yeah, infact-,”

“Look,” Sokka interrupted, not at all eager to hear what she felt was necessary to say, “I hate walking too. But the important thing is that we stay inconspicuous.”

“Whatever.” Katara muttered, kicking at the dirt.

“Besides, this way, we can stay alert, and ready to attack,” Sokka pressed forward, pushing back a bush, “And out of the Fire Nation’s reach-,” His speech trickled off as he looked ahead.

They’d walked into a clearing,

An _occupied_ clearing. 

“Well, we found the encampment,” Katara said.

“Run!” Sokka managed to yell, dropping his bag.

But just as they’d turned, they had to duck down as a ball of fire flew overhead, setting the line of shrubbery aflame, and blocking the only exit that wasn’t covered by a Fire Nation soldier.

“We’re cut off!” Sokka shouted, at a complete loss for what to do now.

“Sokka!” Katara screamed, “Your shirt!”

He followed her gaze, catching the flame in his peripheral before any sort of heat registered, “Oh, shit!” He swatted at his arm, but it wouldn’t stop spreading-

His left shoulder was promptly drenched in water, then immediately dried when Katara pulled it back into her waterskin. He would’ve thanked her, were it not for an increasingly enlarging group of firebenders cornering them next to a growing bonfire of shrubbery.

 _Gee, if only we had a firebender on_ our _side of this._

Sokka looked back to where Zuko had been following beside them. He was still there, but he looked frozen in place. Maybe conflicted, if you chose to read his expression that way.

_Right. We don’t._

This was it, this was where the bomb went off. 

But then there was a slice through the air as the soldier who’d headed the growing formation fell to the ground, completely incapcitated.

“How’d you do that, Sokka?” Aang asked, jumping quite impressively to the wrong conclusion. Sokka was stunned, he just shook his head.

“Look!” Katara yelled, pointing up into the trees. 

Impossibly, Sokka could make out the figure of a boy, swinging down from a tree and landing poised in front of them, taking down another soldier with his weight.

“Down you go.” The boy quipped, leaping back to his feet.

There was more commotion as more of these tree-fighters descended, easily blindsiding the soldiers. 

Aang was the first of their party to join the fray, pushing back five men with an aggressive blast of air. 

Sokka set his eyes on a man towards the back of the camp who was running at them.

 _Got it_.

He leveled his club, ready to bludgeon the soldier-

But the man fell just in front of him, the new boy taking him out with a single swipe of his odd weapon. It looked like an elongated hook with the very tip of axe attached to it. 

“Hey!” Sokka found himself protesting, “He was mine!”

The boy shrugged, an unbearable arrogance in his demeanor, “Better be quicker next time.” Then he dashed off, taking down soldiers in tandem with the others. 

The camp fell in minutes, the soldiers running from the camp once they realized this wasn’t a fight they could win.

“Wow!” Aang called out as the dust settled, “That was _incredible_! You just took out an army!” 

Aang stopped just short of the boy who’d swung down from the tree, who was now chewing on a single wheat stock and standing next to Katara, who was staring up at him dreamily. 

_Ew._

“Thanks. We were waiting to ambush this camp all morning, we just needed a distraction, infact, we should be thanking you.” he replied, an insufferable smirk upon his face. 

Aang just grinned, preening in the light of validation and friendly interaction with a total stranger. 

“Who are you?” Katara asked, her voice taking a bizarre softness to it. 

_Again, ew._

The boy smiled, more than receptive to her attention, “I’m Jet. And these,” He gestured suavely to the five other kids who’d assisted in the fight, “Are my Freedom Fighters.”

_Spirits, that’s corny._

The Freedom Fighters had aligned themselves somewhat for Jet’s introductions, nodding as he went over their names, “Sneers, Longshot, Smellerbee, The Duke, and Pipsqueak.”

Aang laughed heartily at the name Pipsqueak.

The largest of the Fighters glared at him, “You think my names funny?”

This wouldn’t have been how Sokka predicted Aang’s demise, but, hey, life’s full of surprises.

Aang doubled down as a goofy grin spread across his face, “It’s hilarious!”

Pipsqueak held his distaste a second more before barking out a laugh. Sokka exhaled in relief while Aang wiped tears from his eyes. 

“Who are you?” Jet asked, fixing an uncomfortably soft gaze on Katara.

His sister ate it up, “I’m Katara. This is Aang, he’s the Avatar.”

Aang waved, oblivious to the inherent risk in introducing his identity so readily. 

“The Avatar, huh? Impressive,” Jet said, giving Aang another look over.

“And this is my brother, Sokka.” She could have said it with more contempt, he was sure she could have. Sokka rolled his eyes, narrowing his eyes when Jet regarded him.

Jet barely gave him a glance before turning away. _Rude._

“And you?” 

Katara broke from her daze to see what Jet meant.

_Oh, yeah._

It really was odd how easily they all seemed to forget that they were, in fact, walking around with an angry firebender who was with them out of circumstance. It wasn’t really their fault Sokka decided, Zuko existed like a shadow. 

Still, how were they supposed to go about this introduction?

 _Jet, this is Zuko, our walking enigma. Don’t look him in the eyes, he will try to set you on fire._

Yeah, that just, didn’t quite seem like a good call. And it wasn’t as if they had any sort of cover story for Zuko’s presence in their little group. They’d barely begun to accept that he wasn’t going to kill them and take Aang in the night, a cover story just hadn’t been up for consideration.

Luckily, they had one great liar among them, 

“That’s Li.” Aang introduced cheerily, subtly stepping between Jet and Zuko, though it was unclear whom exactly he was trying to cover.

_Weird._

Jet just nodded, turning back to his ‘Freedom Fighters.’ 

“What’s the haul?” He called out, indicating the others, who were now stockpiling the camp’s supplies. 

“Blasting Jelly!” One replied, the smallest of them, The Duke.

“And this is a crate of jellied candy!” Another said, holding a rectangular crate.

“Nice,” Jet replied, taking the wheat stock from his mouth, then he frowned, “Let’s not get those mixed up.”

They each gave a thumbs up in confirmation, and Jet turned back to Katara, who had returned to ogling him.

“Wanna see our hideout?” He asked, stepping closer to her. 

_Spirits, ew._

Katara nodded, “We’d love to!”

_Would we?_

“You have a hideout?” Aang asked, bouncing with excitement. 

“Yeah,” Jet returned, smiling, “Hey! We’ll go through the rest of the camp later, we have a very special guest with us tonight!” He ushered the others over, placing a hand on Aang’s shoulder, “He’s the Avatar.”

_Great._

…

“We’re here,” Jet said, stopping their expanded party.

Sokka raised an eyebrow.

“But, there’s nothing here.” Sokka rightfully stated, ignoring the oddly hung ropes he’d seen hanging from the trees for the last few yards of their walk.

Jet stepped back, taking one of those ropes and guiding it over, placing it around Sokka’s wrist.

“Hold on.” Jet instructed, an odd mischief in his expression.

“Wha-,” But he was cut off when Jet tugged on the rope and sent Sokka sky high.

It was the worst physical feeling Sokka had ever experienced, and he would relish in complaining about it for the rest of his life.

Then it was over and he only just processed his surroundings, allowing him to land on a wooden surface, breath caught in his lungs. 

He felt a _whoosh_ of air as Aang landed beside him.

“Woah,” Aang said, whipping his head around to take in the new setting. And, yeah, it was a pretty impressive sight. 

The ‘hideout’ was one giant skyway of wooden boards making flat surfaces connected by rope bridges, bathed in sunlight but also shaded by the brilliant turning leaves of the trees. It was one of the coolest things Sokka had ever seen, and for a moment he let himself get lost in the wonder of it all. 

He snapped out of it when Katara arrived, holding tight onto Jet as they eased their way up. Spirits, Jet was so...greasy. And as much as Katara annoyed him, his sister really didn’t need to have her feelings hurt by a guy named _Jet._

They were led through the hideout, Sokka tuning much of it out in favor of enjoying the visual stimuli everywhere he looked. Somehow, he wound up backing the group and having to walk next to Zuko, who also seemed reluctant to believe this was actually where he was. 

…

Dinner that night was a grand affair. A variety of foods spread along a wooden board that was surrounded by cushions and tattered blankets to provide seating. The Freedom Fighters took up the bulk of the makeshift table, chattering animatedly amongst themselves while food was dished out. Jet headed the table, chewing on his wheat stock while Katara prattled on about, well, whatever she was prattling on about. 

Sokka sat beside her, picking around the fruit on his plate, the meat long since consumed. Aang and Zuko had been placed across from them, Aang sitting on Jet’s right side, feeding scraps of his food to Momo.

It was unsettling to watch the two of them sit together. They really hadn’t had much of a choice, but Sokka absolutely noticed how often Katara’s eyes shifted to Aang, assuring he was okay. But in all fairness, Zuko looked practically catatonic, the food on his plate untouched, his eyes glazed over as he stared at _nothing_. Sokka really didn’t think he had any intention of harming Aang in that moment.

“Fighters!” Jet called their attention, now standing atop the board, a cup held in his hand. The children immediately gave their focus to him, looking on him like some valiant leader about to deliver a pertinent speech.

“A great victory was won today!” 

The others cheered out, some pounding their fists on the table, disrupting the plates and cups resting on top of it.

“With the help of the Avatar, and his friends,” He winked at Katara, “We were able to disband and infiltrate a Fire Nation encampment.”

More cheering. Sokka fought not to roll his eyes. He was happy as anyone to disturb the convenience of Fire Nation soldiers, but Jet was going a bit far in his recount of the situation.

“And while we weren’t yet able to loot through everything, we found some especially remarkable items.” 

He flicked his head upwards and one of the others brought forth a scroll. Jet took it vigorously. He held it in the air,

“The contents of this scroll, found by our own, Longshot, spells great victory and hope! You’ll have to forgive us for withholding it, but hosting the Avatar and his companions took some precedent this afternoon.”

The scroll was smaller than Sokka had ever seen, and in the dim lamplight he could discern it was only writing. Intel from the Fire Nation? His mood shifted at that, and he straightened his back, just as eager as everyone else to hear what was on the scroll.

“Are you ready?” Jet teased.

“Yes!” The others chorused, hyping him up while he dangled the scroll in front of them, playing it up greatly.

Jet took a deep breath, a grin spreading across his face, “This scroll, identified as an authentic intelligence report from the Fire Nation, reports of a very special death.”

All air seemed to be sucked from the space, and the word _death_ reverberated through the silence. 

“The Fire Nation's own crown Prince has died!” Jet finished, tossing the scroll out into the center of the table. The scramble to catch it was fierce but Sokka managed to snatch it first, eyes skimming over the brief report.

_As of this the twenty-fifth day of the second month of winter, Commander Zhao has confirmed the demise of Prince Zuko, first in line-_

The paper was ripped from his hands, one of Jet’s Freedom Fighters taking hold of it. Didn’t matter, Sokka had read it. 

It was true.

He looked to his sister before anyone, and saw a mirror of his own shock spelled all over her face. Aang looked like he was trying to solve a very difficult puzzle, the lychee nuts he’d been feeding Momo falling onto the table and scattering every which way.

Finally, Sokka looked to the dead Prince in question. 

Zuko’s expression was impossible to read. He just looked, _gone_. Like he wasn’t quite on the same plane the rest of them were. Spirits, it was very disturbing.

Jet raised his cup, and cheers erupted again.

Sokka tugged on Katara’s sleeve, pulling her in conspiratorially, “We have to leave.”

“What?” She pushed back, immediately drawn from her previous shock. “We can’t leave,” She said, just loud enough for Jet and Aang to hear.

“We’re leaving?” Aang asked, tilting his head.

Sokka set his jaw, “Yeah. We shouldn’t stay here. We need to keep moving.” And with that he stood, attempting to straighten his posture because Jet was so _tall._

“You can’t leave,” Jet insisted, stepping forward and placing a hand on Sokka’s arm. Sokka shook it off.

“We were supposed to be moving on from this area anyway. Thank you for the food, but-,”

“Sokka.” Jet cut him off, “I needed you on an important secret mission tomorrow. At least stay the night.”

Secret mission? Okay that sounded awesome. Sokka did love secrecy, especially when it involved a mission-

“Yeah, Sokka. We can stay the night!” Aang encouraged.

_So they were just going to brush off the whole ‘Zuko’s dead’ celebration? When they were keeping him in a weird kind-of-but-not-really-their-prisoner limbo? When he very much was not dead?_

_Okay. Sure._

Sokka didn’t confirm anything, he just sat back down, letting the heightened volume of conversation drown out everything else.

“Fine.” He muttered, certain no one actually heard him.

…

It was not ‘fine.’ They should have left the minute Jet introduced himself back at the camp. _Did a schedule mean nothing to Aang and Katara?_

And had they not seen how jovial the pack of skilled, albeit oddly blood thirsty, children had been at the false news of Zuko’s death? Sokka didn’t know much about Jet, but from what he’d seen earlier he shuddered to think of what their new host would do should he find out he was now harboring the banished, very much _alive_ , Prince of the Fire Nation.

Sokka sat up from his place in the small room Jet had given them, sleep just wasn't going to come easy to him with everything that had happened. 

And it went beyond just the last few hours. Now that they'd settled, he kept replaying Katara's words from that morning. 

_"You're not a leader, you're just bossy."_

Was that true? 

It had been instilled in him since birth that the greatest thing to be was a leader. A warrior, the beacon of strength. Sure, he didn't have any fancy bending but then neither did his father, and he was a _great_ leader. 

And Jet? Aang and Katara had trusted Jet immediately. And the pull Jet had over the crowd at dinner...it left a feeling of great envy pitting in Sokka’s stomach. 

He sighed, tilting his head back and enjoying the moonlight that shone through cracks in the wooden roof. He'd always enjoyed the light of the moon. He knew that it was an ancient spirit, deeply tied to the identity of the Water Tribe. It was a soft light, kind.

Then he noticed it. Zuko was missing. Sokka wasn't entirely sure he'd ever joined them. In fact, for as shocking as dinner was, none of them had truly paid Zuko much attention. 

Wow. They were really bad at this whole kind-of-but-not-really holding their adversary prisoner thing. 

_Maybe he finally ran off_.

Sokka had been expecting it for days now. The morning they'd wake up, the tent unoccupied and their camp surrounded by firebenders. He had half a mind to try sleeping again, they hadn’t died yet, afterall.

But, pure curiosity pushed him up completely, and Sokka left the room, hoping to find nothing and return to whatever semblance of normal he, Aang, and Katara had managed before.

…

It didn't take long to find Zuko, he was sitting just outside of the room, legs hanging off the wooden platform.

_Huh. Okay._

Sokka really should’ve turned back around, pretend he'd never come out looking and maybe get some sleep. 

Should have. 

"Hey," Sokka said softly, trying very desperately to avoid a fireball hurled at his face.

Zuko tensed for a moment, but didn't respond. Sokka decided to take the silent reaction as a good sign and sat down beside him, keeping a distance between them. 

"My condolences about your death." Sokka quipped and, oof, maybe that one would have been better left in his head. 

The silence was deafening. Sokka began to wish he'd just turned around and went back to trying to sleep. In all honesty, he still could. But then, impossibly, Zuko _spoke_.

"Three days," he started, his voice hoarse, probably from how seldom he used it.

“What?”

"Protocol says we wait one month before pronouncing a death. If no corpse can be found, wait one month. It took _three days_."

_Oh._

Sokka had no response, not this time.

"We have _protocol. Rules._ We wait one month to announce a death. And soldiers aren't meant to attack civilians who stumble upon them or their encampments. Not when, not when they don’t _know._ "

Sokka raised his eyebrows, he certainly hadn't expected the conversation to veer this way. 

"But, they do. All the time. You did," Sokka said, he couldn't help himself.

Zuko looked at him then, face twisted into what could have been hurt, " _No._ I only-,the Avatar-,"

"Kyoshi Island." Sokka offered, barely aware of how dangerous it would be to upset the other boy.

"That's different."

"It's not."

"You don't know _anything_." Zuko snapped. Spirits, he really was an ass.

Silence again. 

_Just leave._

He didn’t.

“So. Jet’s kind of terrible, right?” Sokka stumbled through the statement, confused as to why he was trying to save, let alone hold, a conversation with Zuko. 

“He’s too tall,” Zuko said, after letting Sokka’s question hang in the air for far too long.

“Yeah, like, way too tall. Like a, like a-,”

“Tree.”

“Sure. Yeah, like a tree.” Sokka forced a good natured laugh, but, _dear spirits this was suffocatingly awkward._

“And his shoulders are too far apart.” 

“They are!” Sokka agreed, shocked to hear Zuko say more than three words strung together in a casual manner. 

“And his eyebrows?” 

Sokka made a face, Jet’s eyebrows were horrendous. 

“His hair is nice, though,” Zuko said quietly, like he was voicing something that was meant to stay a thought. When Zuko realized he’d spoken out loud, his eyes went wide, and he forced his gaze down furiously.

“It is,” Sokka offered, not keen to return to silence, “He probably agonizes over it. Gotta make sure it’s _just_ nice enough to distract from his stupid face.”

There, that should fix it. 

It didn’t.

…

The ‘mission’ Jet had brought him on thus far was just a display of physical aptitude. They jumped from tree to tree along a trade road, no discernible goal influencing their movement. And while it hadn’t been the espionage Sokka had been hoping for, it was still a welcome distraction from everything about his current situation.

Sokka lost himself in the motion and demand of moving through the trees with Jet, nearly crashing when Jet stopped abruptly, jumping down from their current stretch of branch to another one below.

“Jet-,”

“Shh!”

Jet waited a moment more, staring intently at the road. 

“We’re waiting for someone?” Sokka asked, getting only the smallest of nods in response. 

_Okay._

Sokka unsheathed his jaw blade, sticking it firm into the tree’s trunk. 

“What are you doing?” Jet bit, whipping his head back to regard Sokka. 

“It amplifies vibrations, this way we can tell when someone’s coming down the road.” Sokka explained, cupping the handle of the blade and pressing his ear close. 

“Oh, great thinking,” Jet said. It actually sounded genuine, which felt pretty good-

A small _patter_ broke his validation high.

“Someone’s coming.” Sokka whispered, removing his jaw blade from the tree.

Jet nodded and gave a loud whistle, sounding indistinguishable from a bird. When his call was complete, only a few brief seconds passed before a response rang throughout the forest, seemingly from all sides. 

The patter of footsteps grew louder, then, finally-

“Oh,” Sokka let his shoulders slump, “It’s just an old man.”

“Finally.” Jet breathed, jumping down from his resting spot. 

Sokka did his best to climb out of the tree, not at all inclined to jump. 

All around, the other Freedom Fighters fell from their respective trees, encircling the old man, who’d been walking with a cane. Jet was the one to kick it out from under him, sending the old man into a kneeling position.

“Jet, he’s not a threat-,” Sokka began, extending a hand to help the man back to his feet. He was cut off by one of Jet’s hook swords swiping down, very nearly missing his arm. 

“He’s Fire Nation,” Jet said grimly, staring hatefully at the old man’s crimson robes. 

“Yeah, but-,” Sokka cut himself off when Jet whipped around, his demeanor shifting completely from the sauve boy they’d met only yesterday. He looked crazed.

“ _B_ _ut_ ? This man is _Fire Nation_ , Sokka. How can you defend him?”

“I’m not-,”

“You _are_. But you can’t, don’t forget what the Fire Nation took from you. How they killed your mother.”

Sokka was shocked into silence.

_How did Jet even know about his mom?_

Katara.

_She told him, didn’t she?_

Sokka fought back the sting of knowing Katara had so willingly shared such a deep wound with this complete stranger. 

Jet turned back to the man, swinging his swords viciously as a threat. 

“Stop!” Sokka yelled, gripping onto the arm Jet had raised to strike.

Jet shoved him off, eyes narrowed in anger.

“You can’t just kill anyone you meet for being a Fire Nation. This man hasn’t done anything wrong!” Sokka tried again. But he didn’t know how to handle this, how to get Jet to back off. It was like a switch had flipped in Jet’s brain.

“Not that you know!” Jet leaned down to the old man, “You like destroying towns? You like destroying families?” He spat at the man.

“Please,” the man begged, “Take my money, anything, just don’t kill me, have mercy!”

That just set Jet off again, “Does the Fire Nation take mercy?”

“Jet!”

One of his friends cried out.

Jet broke from his rage, still glaring at the poor old man. Sokka dug harshly into Jet’s shoulder, pulling him back.

Jet elbowed Sokka hard, but his passion was waning. 

“Fine. Freedom Fighters, fall out.” And they just...walked away. As if nothing had happened, as if anything Jet had just done was excusable. Sokka faltered, helping the old man to his feet.

_They needed to leave._

…

Back at the hideout, Sokka immediately sought a place to be alone. He’d piled up their supplies in Appa’s saddle, and was now waiting for the right time to tell off Jet and get out of there. 

Katara was the one who found him, she was holding a lump of hideous fabric in her hands.

“How was the mission?” Katara asked, oblivious to his obvious foul mood.

“Why don’t you ask _Jet_ ,” Sokka said, letting the bitterness seep into his tone.

Her shoulders fell, “What do you mean?”

“We were stalking a road. When we came upon an old man, Jet tried to kill him.”

“What? Jet wouldn’t do that!”

_You don’t even know him. You know me. Trust me._

“He did.”

She crossed her arms, “I’d like to hear Jet’s side of the story.”

“Why isn’t my word enough?”

That caught her off guard, and she looked hurt. 

“Besides," he continued, "We should have left last night. In case it slipped your mind, we’re currently hosting a firebender.”

She huffed, but clearly she’d forgotten about _that._

“I still want to hear Jet’s word on what happened.” She resolved, pushing away his valid point.

“Fine. Let’s do that.” He pushed past her, walking quick to Jet’s tree-hut.

They passed Aang on the way, “Where are you two-,”

“Jet.” Katara answered harshly, staring daggers at Sokka.

Aang fell in line, following them without another word.

Sokka pushed the curtain that covered the door frame of Jet’s hut out of the way, and the boy himself turned to the disruption, caught completely off guard.

“Is it true?” Katara asked, stepping ahead of Sokka.

Jet regarded her for a moment, then considered the glare plastered on Sokka’s face, “You told them.”

“It is true?” She sounded so vulnerable, “Jet, did you try to kill a defenseless old man?”

Jet looked at her, it almost read genuine, “Is that what he told you? Did he mention that the man was Fire Nation?”

Katara stiffened, “No. He failed to mention that.” 

Jet shook his head, and took a knife from his belt, plunging it into the wooden stump beside him. It was distinctly Fire Nation in style.

“That man was an assassin. Sent to end me.”

“Oh no,” Katara said, buying into Jet’s absurd story. 

“That’s terrible.” Aang was solemn, bowing his head in remorse.

“There was no knife!” Sokka cried, desperate at this point.

“There was. I guess you didn’t see it. It’s good we caught it though. Me and the Freedom Fighters are going to finish looting the camp tonight, and now we can do that safely.”

Aang and Katara nodded. 

Sokka looked between them, baffled that they fell so easily into Jet’s lie. He stormed out of Jet’s quarters, fuming.

_How could they put such blind faith in him?_

Sokka pretended not to be hurt by Aang and Katara choosing to trust Jet’s word over his, but the reality was settling just a little too clearly for him to handle.

_They don’t trust me._

He threw himself down into their little room, furiously bundling up the rest of their belongings. He lost himself in the work, not even noticing someone had entered until they broke his fevered silence.

“What was that?” Katara demanded.

"What?" He replied curtly, refusing to turn around.

"That nonsense! Accusing Jet of trying to kill an old man, storming off, packing up? What is with you?"

"Nothing. But we can't trust him."

"Why? Because you're threatened? Because you're scared he's so much better at leading than you are?"

"No. Because he's a shady guy, and _we can't trust him_."

That was the least Sokka could say of his opinion of Jet, but he knew Katara would ignore anything else. He fiddled with the straps of his bag, going silent.

"Stop that!"

She knelt down, pulling on his arm. He shrugged her off.

"Look, this isn't an argument I want to have, okay?"

Katara huffed, standing again, "That is so unfair."

"I just don't want to talk right now-,"

"You never want to talk!"

_Woah._

She’d yelled at him countless times before but never like _that._

"You never let me in on anything! You can't open up to save your life!" 

He stood, facing her.

"This is stupid-,"

"No! You're stupid, and you're not taking this away from me."

_She’s impossible._

"Taking what? Jet? You do realize we still have to take Aang to the North Pole? Or did your desire to master waterbending and help the Avatar escape you the moment a tall boy gave you attention?" It was cruel to throw that in her face, he knew that, but she was being so ridiculous.

"Don't you dare. You're so mean."

His eyebrows shot up, "Mean? Really? You’re reckless and immature-,"

"I am not reckless-,"

"Yes, you are. You’re just a kid, Katara-,"

"Oh and you're what, some valiant warrior chiseled by your years at war?"

"Katara-,"

"No, Sokka. I'm a kid? You're only a year older than me, what does that make you? You're not a warrior and you're not-, _spirits_ , you're not Dad, okay?"

"Yeah? And you're not Mom!" He fired back.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to have this argument at all, let alone _this_ part of it. 

Katara’s eyes were wide. Shit, she looked like she was going to cry. He set his mouth into a firm line.

“This is all pointless. This isn’t about anything other than Jet, Katara. He’s no good. And we need to leave.”

She snapped her head up, all traces of sadness gone, “Oh, so _now_ you care about potentially dangerous company?”

He shook his head, “That’s not relevant to this situation.”

“No please, tell me all about how dangerous Jet is! When you have us traveling with the largest threat to Aang’s life we’ve faced thus far!”

He went quiet again. She was right. But it didn’t-, it didn't matter right now. Not in this moment. 

“You’re infuriating!” She shouted, stomping out of the room, roughly tugging the curtain back and bathing the room in shadow. 

Sokka couldn’t say how long he sat there, everything they’d just said replaying bitterly in his ears. 

_She’s willfully ignorant._

But, he couldn’t deny, she’d confronted him with some fairly deep seeded things. Maybe not _so_ ignorant, after all. 

No. Nope. He didn’t want to deal with it. 

Sokka left the room, a new plan formulating in his mind. If he couldn’t convince Aang and Katara on word alone, he’d follow Jet and his cronies, and get a better read on their intentions. Jet had said they’d leave at night, and as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, Sokka made his way through the maze of platforms and bridges. 

And, because it seemed to be one of the only ways they ever greeted each other, he promptly ran into Zuko, nearly knocking them both off the platform. They caught their balance and Sokka took a step back.

“Don’t tell me you’re following Jet too,” Sokka said, meaning it in jest. 

The other boy faltered a bit, a scowl still steadfastly plastered on his face.

“Wait, are you?” Sokka asked, trying to discern the reason why _Zuko_ would need to follow after Jet.

He nodded once, “I don’t like him. He’s...shady.”

Sokka snorted, it wasn’t as if Zuko himself was some beacon of morality. But whatever. 

Eventually he just sighed, nodding his head towards the bridge in front of them and walking on, more than confident Zuko would follow. 

…

They made their way stealthily to the Fire Nation camp site, moving in tandem. Sokka found a strange thrill in how easily they worked together, he didn’t have to announce anything he did, it was as if Zuko already knew.

So when he ducked suddenly behind a thicket of bushes, he didn’t have to relay his intentions, Zuko repeated the movement, and they both peered on into the camp.

Many of the tents had been knocked down, a fire raging in the pit for light. Jet stood at the center of it, Longshot beside him while they stared down at a piece of paper. Sokka couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about, but Jet was incredibly tense, visibly shaking. 

Sokka dared to move closer, straining to hear what Jet was so upset about, but he misstepped, the crack of a twig beneath his feet resonating through the night air. Jet’s head snapped up, and Sokka couldn’t move down low enough. 

“In the bushes!” One of them yelled, and, just as suddenly, an arrow pierced through the thicket, landing between him and Zuko. A threat.

“Show yourself!” Jet called out.

_Shit._

Another arrow, much closer to Sokka’s leg than he would have preferred.

They had no choice. Sokka stood first, holding his arms out in surrender. Zuko followed suit, but he tensed, ready to fight.

“Sokka?” Jet laughed, a harsh and menacing sound, “I could have guessed.” 

His eyes moved over to Zuko, and Sokka saw it, _the switch flipped_. 

Jet brandished his hook swords, pursing his lips. 

" _Tie_ _them up."_ Jet managed.

There wasn't any time to flee, and they were tied. _Again_. With no discernable escape. _Again_.

"Jet, what are you doing?" Sokka asked, forcing his wrists against the ties. 

_They're too loose._

"What am I doing? I'm doing all I can to fight this war! _What are you doing bringing the Prince of the Fire Nation into my hideout?"_

_Oh, shit._

"We. Didn't?" Sokka tried, mind reeling. _How did Jet know?_

"Liar! We saw the portrait." 

Jet reached out a hand, and Longshot placed a piece of paper, the one they'd been looking over earlier, into it.

"It must have been included with the report, but it seemed to have been discarded." He threw it on the ground in front of Sokka and Zuko.

_Shit._

Sokka pushed against his ties once more, he knew he could undo them. But the moment was all wrong. He stood no chance against all of the Freedom Fighters, and certainly not in this context. He needed a distraction. 

“There is a special pride, knowing I’ll be the one to kill such high ranking Fire Nation royalty, but really, you’re all the same. A citizen is a soldier is a prince is scum. Let’s start easy.”

This rage was different from what Sokka had seen earlier that day on the road, this was contained, cold. It was terrifying. 

Jet moved closer to Zuko, who had shut his eyes. Was he concentrating? _On what?_

His eyes were forced open, however, when Jet yanked his head back by gripping his hair. Zuko gave a short cry of pain but Jet was not one for too many dramatics. He didn’t wait any stretch of time before raising his sword and hacking it through Zuko’s hair, cutting it off.

There was a stunned silence. Whatever anyone there had been expecting Jet to do, it wasn’t _that._

Jet held the mound of hair in his hand, “Quite the symbol, I think. We’ll send this to the Firelord himself, let him know how his son _truly_ died. We’re legends, now. Heroes.”

His pride left a taste like copper in Sokka’s throat, and was answered by fire, slicing harsh and stark against the night. Jet’s eyes went wide and he turned back to Zuko. The prince’s ties were now ash at his feet, and any sullen compliance to play prisoner had left him. He narrowed his eyes, positioning to attack.

_Yeah, that’ll work as a distraction._

No one was paying Sokka any mind, so he made quick work of undoing his own binds, and pocketed the rope. He pushed all of his weight into Sneers, the Fighter who’d been guarding him, and sent them both flying back. 

Sokka was back on his feet instantly, trying very hard to think. 

He was no match for any of them in combat, and even though Zuko was throwing fire now, they were still outnumbered.

 _So split the pack_. 

Perfect. 

“Next time, learn how to tie a knot!” Sokka called out, capturing Jet’s momentary attention. And then he was sprinting away, praying this would work the way he’d planned. 

“Pipsqueak! The Duke! Don’t let him get away!” Jet managed, ducking from a blast of flame. 

_Here we go, here we go, don’t fuck it up._

Sokka was aware of the hastening footsteps behind him, but he couldn’t pay them any mind just yet, he needed to focus. It was almost impossible to see in the forest at this time of night, but the moonlight kept him on track, guiding him through the thickening trees. At last, he spotted some. Piles of lychee nuts, lying inconspicuously off the path. He angled towards them, jumping lithely over them and landing over a tree root. 

He waited for the footsteps to catch up, and the sound of a rope sliding upwards and two undignified shouts caused a grin to breakout across his face.

_It worked._

Sokka turned to look upon his success. Pipsqueak and The Duke were suspended high above him, caught in Fire Nation traps. 

“Watch your step,” He taunted, shrugging. Then he sobered, _Aang and Katara._

It wasn’t a tough decision to make, to leave Zuko behind and get his family, but Sokka still found himself assessing what Zuko would be facing now. Jet, Longshot, Smellerbee and Sneers. 

_He can do it._

Sokka was shocked at how sure he was of that, but it helped him as he made his way back to the hideout. 

_Odd._

…

“Run that by me again,” Katara said, stifling a yawn.

“ _Katara._ I’m not repeating mys-,”

"Fine.”

She turned to Aang, who had remained silent during Sokka’s explanation. Aang’s eyebrows were furrowed, he was deep in thought. 

“What should we do?” He finally asked. 

He looked to Sokka. They both did. 

“We need to leave. And I need you to trust me. Both of you.”

“Did Jet really try to kill you?” Katara whispered.

“No, not me. But he would have. And he wants to. He thinks we’re traitors.”

Katara looked at him, eyes wide. _We are. In this way, at least,_ she seemed to say.

Sokka shook his head, “We’re not.”

“I trust you,” Aang said, gripping his glider.

_Great._

Katara still had her arms crossed, but eventually she sighed.

“Of course I trust you, Sokka.”

…

Aang landed Appa on the outskirts of the encampment, adamant not to put their animal friends in any sort of harm’s way.

Then they were off, back into a fight.

And there was still quite a bit left. As Sokka had predicted, Zuko had been able to hold his own, but he was tiring, form loose and sloppy while Jet was striking with more and more vigor, the embodiment of rage.

And the fire being thrown his way hadn’t slowed him down at all; Jet was going to _win._

That is until a whip of water slapped his hand and sent one of his hook swords flying. Katara lulled the water back, her eyes set and determined. But Sokka noticed how they were filling ever so slightly with tears. 

Sokka focused on the other three, moving beside Aang to get them out of the way. Sneers was easy enough to incapacitate, one shot of air from Aang sent him careening back. Longshot was blasted back too, falling into the dirt. And Smellerbee, the only one of Jet’s fighters left, fell back, scared.

 _They’re kids_. 

That gave Sokka pause, and he saw Aang change in demeanor too.

_What were they fighting for, exactly?_

“Traitor!” Jet screamed from behind them.

He turned to see Jet held against a tree, encased in an impressive block of ice. 

“Woah, Katara,” Aang said, walking back to where she was, “How did you-,”

“The barrels. They aren’t just filled with blasting jelly.” She sneered, glaring coldly at Jet. 

“How could you?” Jet yelled, struggling against his new icy prison.

“How could _you_ !” Katara shot back, voice straining, “I thought you were _right._ You were going to kill my brother!”

“No! Not Sokka. But _him,_ ” He jerked his head towards Zuko, who was standing off to the side, chest heaving from his previous exertion, “I would gladly kill him.”

Katara faltered, and shook her head. 

“Why, Jet?”

“‘ _Why’_ ? Katara, think of your mother. My parents. How could you stand to travel with _him_? He might as well have been the one to kill those we loved! He is the treachery of his Nation, don't try to pretend any different.”

She went silent. She couldn’t disagree with Jet, Sokka realized. She couldn’t disagree because she _didn’t_ disagree.

“Maybe not,” Aang allowed, his voice taking a remarkable austere. “But this isn’t the proper way, Jet. Blood for blood is a cycle, not a resolution.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the space between them all. 

“Let’s go,” Sokka said.

This battle was done. They ought to keep moving. That’s what they always did, after all. 

Katara hesitated, as if she was trying to get a better explanation, a better answer, from Jet. But his expression had gone stony. It was over.

...

She was the first in Appa’s saddle when they made it back. Aang was next, taking Appa’s reins. Sokka had opted to walk with Zuko, who was silent, as always. He looked...different without the ponytail. Smaller. Though that was probably to do with the exhaustion, not the abrupt haircut.

They ascended into the night, the moon shining bright and clear above the tree-line. A kind light. 

“Why did you come back for me?” Zuko asked after some time, so soft Sokka could have imagined it. But he knew he hadn’t.

“We didn’t do that for you,” Katara snapped, arm resting along the side of Appa’s saddle, “But we’re not monsters.” 

She brushed her fingers along her neck, a force of habit. 

“Thank you,” Zuko said, breaking their quiet again, his voice firmer than Sokka had ever heard it. 

Sokka knew what it really meant, though. 

He remembered that night by the river, what Zuko had confirmed. He said _‘thank you,’_ but he meant _‘I owe you.’_

And Zuko probably hadn’t realised, Sokka knew he hadn’t, but he’d already paid his debt. First with the line of fire, and again when he provided a distraction, allowing Sokka to escape. It was good enough in Sokka’s mind. 

_‘It saved me, too. It doesn’t count.’_

Sokka leaned against his side of Appa’s saddle, letting exhaustion wash over him. 

“What a shitty day,” Sokka said, throwing his head back to look at the stars. 

Katara snorted, and he could hear Aang’s chuckle from where he sat. Sokka couldn’t help but a laugh a little under his breath, too, closing his eyes and sinking into the feeling of rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you are probably annoyed that I completely changed the end of "Jet" but the choice was split two ways:
> 
> 1) Everytime I tried to write it to comply with canon it sucked
> 
> 2) I didnt need it to further anyone's arc/characterization this chapter
> 
> But this chapter kicked my ass specifically because I wanted the actions and reactions to reflect the fact that while hardened by war, everyone here is still a kid. They have no tact, they move on from troubling information far too quick and holy shit is the gaang bad at keeping track of their kind-of-not-really-prisoner. So I apologize if the way things were handled/treated/dropped upset or annoyed you, maybe this clarified my intentions.
> 
> Also...I did it. It's gone. Bet you weren't expecting that.  
> 
> 
> I hope you had fun, and I hope I'll see you here again.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. The Immediate Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title is literal this is set maybe an hour after chapter 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, see you at the end. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Sokka watched the logs crack away into charred remnants, illuminated by the dull orange of a waning fire. It was almost entrancing, to watch the harsh light eat away at the logs; that something as sturdy and sure as wood could be decimated from the inside out. He’d never found fire to be beautiful. Fire was pain and suffering, and an unfortunate necessity to basic warmth. But Sokka thought that in this moment, as the ash collected on the dirt below, and the dying flame heated the wood from the inside out, it could almost be beautiful. 

Beside him, Katara allowed herself a deep yawn, resting her face into the crook of her arms, which she wrapped around the legs pulled into her chest. Naturally, her yawn inspired one to break from Sokka, who shook himself from the exhaustion creeping into him. His eyelids grew heavier anyways, but he wasn’t ready for sleep. Not yet.

Aang had already lost that battle. He lay a foot or so away from Katara, curled up in his sleeping bag, lost to all the world around him. He may have been the epitome of peace if not for the tension he held in his brow, no doubt dreaming about his infinite responsibility, cosmic task, and all that other spiritual shit. 

He looked back at Katara, whose eyes were lost to watching the flame in its last battle for heat.

There was a space between them now that neither seemed willing to breach, and it made his head hurt. They’d had arguments since he could remember, every little thing setting them off in one way or another. But they’d never _fought._ It felt like maybe they were now, that maybe when the dust had settled she’d gone back to her previous grievance. 

_‘You never talk! You never let me in on anything! You can’t open up to save your life!’_

Sokka knew it was true. He’d always hated how hard it was to just say what he felt and needed, but it just was what it was. He’d never imagined it might actually hurt someone else. Sokka pushed those thoughts away, he didn’t want them anymore. 

He looked over to where Zuko sat, a few feet away from them with his back to the fire.

_He must be cold._

Sokka sighed, _whatever._

Spirits, he was so tired. And so, so lost. It happened sometimes, when the night got too quiet and his brain cleared beyond joking and planning and keeping his sister and Aang from doing anything too rash. His mind would slow to a dizzying halt, before everything poured into his conscious and left him helpless. 

Normally he'd list out what he knew, simplify to nullify. There was so much to talk about and so much to decide. 

But right now he just wanted a distraction. 

So he stood up, despite his better judgement and general disinterest, and sat beside Zuko. 

The prince didn't do anything to acknowledge Sokka's presence, per usual. He just kept his eyes trained ahead, expression unreadable. Jet really had done a number to his hair. It had already been unfortunate, but Sokka wouldn't pretend to know what hairstyles were befitting a Fire Nation prince. Now though, there was hardly any left, his hair cut jagged and rough. 

"You need to cut the rest of it," Sokka said, not bothering to break his gaze. 

He saw Zuko's mouth lift in a light sneer, but he didn't falter from staring straight ahead. 

Sokka knew he shouldn't, but he moved his gaze from the pitiful state of Zuko's hair to look at the scar. He'd known it was there, obviously, but he supposed he'd never really _seen_ it. Or rather, not enough to give it more than five seconds of thought. He saw it now though. It was a burn scar. 

"Stop."

Sokka startled at Zuko's voice breaking the silence. He felt his face grow hot and he looked downwards, clearing his throat uncomfortably. 

_Fix this!_

What had he come over for? 

_Right._

"I can help. If you need it." Sokka finished lamely.

"What?" 

"Cutting the rest of your hair."

No response. 

Sokka swallowed. "Look, it'll grow in all screwed up if you don't even it out." He tried again, pressing the pad of his thumb into his blade's pommel.

"I can't reach."

"Huh?"

"The back of my head. I tried, but I've never-, I've never had to." He moved his head down, staring at his hands. 

"You have a blade?" Sokka asked, ignoring Zuko's entire statement for the implication.

"No." 

"I do," Sokka offered, choosing to ignore the lie, "I could help. If you can't-,"

"I _can_ reach the back of my head. I just, I've never-, my Uncle, well-," his voice faltered off, words tripping one over the other out of his mouth.

"You've never had to shave your head? Like, yourself?"

"No. I mean, once. But that wasn't-," Zuko stopped himself, closing back up instantly. He took a breath, "No. I haven't."

_Well, that's something._

"Would you like me to? Even the rest of it out?"

He looked up then, and when he did there were golden eyes there to meet him. _Firebender eyes._ Sokka tried not to look away, fighting the innate discomfort he felt being so close to eyes like _that._

"Okay," Zuko said, breaking away from the stare and breathing deep.

_Well, here we go._

Sokka removed his jaw blade, cringing at his own forgetfulness. He'd packed so hurriedly their last day in the South Pole, and now all he had was a club, his boomerang, and this. None quite preferable for a close shaving of the scalp. But he could do it. 

It was awkward, to position himself behind Zuko, even more awkward to move in close. Sokka hadn't touched him yet, but he knew he’d have to to avoid slicing his head on accident.

He placed a tentative hand on Zuko's left shoulder and felt Zuko tense beneath him.

"Try to relax, it's gonna be hard enough doing everything backwards," Sokka said, using his voice to fill a silence he couldn't handle while he moved in closer still.

Sokka took a breath, trying not to spiral head first into the absurdity of his situation and instead focusing on the small things. He moved his hand from Zuko's shoulder to rest on his head, pulling down to tilt the prince's head back and up.

Zuko jerked a bit when the cool metal of the jaw blade touched his head, and he pulled forward from Sokka's grip, "Aren't you gonna use soap? Or water?"

_Oh. Yeah, that would make this easier._

Sokka shook his head, even if Zuko couldn't see the gesture. 

"No. I'm sure it would help, but I don't need soap for this."

"Oh?"

"My mother never used it," Sokka said, not sure why he'd brought her up. But it felt necessary.

"Your mother?"

"Yeah, she taught me how."

"Oh."

Sokka moved in again, and this time when the blade touched his scalp, Zuko stayed in place. And he wasn't sure where it came from, but now that it had left him, now that the idea of his mother was out into the air, he wanted to keep her there.

So as he flitted the blade down, careful to account for the curve of Zuko's head, he spoke. 

"I remember the first time I begged her to do my hair. There were warriors, visiting from a village a few days from our own. That was before all ties were cut. I saw one, he looked like the embodiment of every warrior my parents and gran-gran had ever told us stories about. He wore his hair the way I do now. Spirits, little-me thought it was the coolest fucking thing. My hair was long enough for the wolf tail, barely. But even I wasn't crazy enough to try shaving on my own," He laughed lightly, caught up in the memory. Zuko didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Sokka wasn't saying this for him. 

"She would hum when she did it. I tried to hide it but she knew I was nervous, so she’d hum to calm my nerves. When, well, after she died," Sokka paused to ease up his pressure, he needed to stay focused. He started again, "The first time I tried to do it, _after_ , I messed up. The cut was uneven and I nicked myself everywhere. And my Dad, he was just as bad. Worse, even. Probably still have some scars on the nape of my neck, that’s where we always nicked it the worst. Eventually I figured it out. I've always found the maintenance of it relaxing." He scraped the blade down, he was almost done.

"Why are you telling me this?" Zuko asked, voice just above a whisper.

Sokka's eyebrows raised, he honestly just assumed Zuko would tune him out.

"I-, I don't know. Just making conversation, I guess."

"Oh."

Sokka zoned back in on his task, half way wishing he'd just stayed by the fire with Katara. But before he could adjust, Zuko moved his head the smallest bit to the right so he could look down. 

It was enough.

"Shit!" Sokka whisper-screamed, drawing the blade back and tossing it away into the grass.

"What?" Zuko's hands flew to his head, no doubt feeling the slick line of blood spreading out of a thin cut.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, I didn't, here let me just-,"

"It's fine! Just finish it!" 

Sokka recoiled a bit at the sheer volume of Zuko's response. He snapped out of it,

"It is. Finished, I mean. You moved on the final cut."

"Great," Zuko said, jaw clenching. 

Then Zuko pulled away quickly, brushing off his pants when he stood. He had retreated into the tent before Sokka could fit in another impulsive apology.

_Shit._

_Years without a single prick on my own scalp and I nick him on the last scrape._

He sat there for a while longer, waiting for the moment Zuko emerged from the tent to hurl fire, but it never came. 

Sokka dropped his head in his hands, rubbing away at the exhaustion and tension that had built itself upon his face. 

_That went well._

Sokka retrieved his jaw blade from the grass, sheathing it sloppily and gasping. He nearly screamed in realization. 

_Why the fuck did I use this? Aang literally has a special blade for shaving bald!_

He kicked himself mentally. They’re lucky Sokka only got one cut in. Spirits, that was such a stupid impulse. Sokka was mad at how little thought he’d given it in retrospect.

_What was I even thinking?_

_Idiot._

He glanced back at the firepit: Katara was still there, prodding the embers with a stick. 

Spirits, this was the longest night in existence. 

Katara didn't look at him when he sat back down. She kept her shoulders held taught to her ears and jabbed her stick into the collecting ashes. Sokka frowned, he didn't want to be in a fight. He knew what they'd said back at Jet's hideout had been heavy, but-

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Katara sniffle. She did her best to hide it, rubbing her arm against her face to erase evidence that she'd been crying.

"Katara-,"

"I'm so sorry!" She exploded, dropping the stick to grip her knees closer to herself. 

_No, no, no._

" _You're_ sorry?" Was all he could say. Maybe a few hours ago he would’ve been apt to agree, but he was the one who’d hurled the most insults. 

Katara wiped furiously at her nose, nodding.

"I didn't, I _never_ should have said-," 

Her voice was muffled by Sokka’s shoulder as he pushed forward to hug her. She hugged back, soaking his lighter shirt with tears. She pulled away slightly, sniffing loudly and looking down at where she’d stained his shirt.

“I was _so_ angry,” she tried again, rubbing at her tear marks as if that would erase them. “I’ve been angry for so long, but, never-, I wouldn’t _ever-_ , but I _did._ And, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, shh.” He pulled her back in, bringing a hand up to pet her hair. That’s what gran-gran did whenever Katara had nightmares, and it’d always seemed to ease her woe. So that’s what he did, rocking with her as she cried. 

_Say something._

“I’m sorry too. I never should have said what I said, about you. But, _spirits_ , you really get on my nerves sometimes, you know?” He teased, attempting levity.

She pushed playfully against him, “Yeah, I know. You get on my nerves too, you jerk.”

“I am a jerk, huh?”

“It’s okay. I am too.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “You are.” 

He could practically feel her eyes rolling.

Eventually they broke apart, but this time she sat cross-legged, looking into the fire. It lit her profile subtly, and he recognized the expression.

_Looks like we’re talking it out. Great._

“It’s been bothering me. Jet, I mean,” She said quietly.

“Well, Jet’s a bother.” Sokka quipped, not really wanting to have a conversation about Jet. In fact, he’d gladly accept them all quietly pretending Jet never existed. 

Katara frowned and started drawing circles in the dirt with her fingers, busying herself.

“He was so angry,” She finally said, wiping the dirt from her fingers onto her skirt, “About _everything._ He told me about how he lost his family, and he wasn’t _sad._ At least, not dominantly. He was _mad_ . And I’d never realized until then how-, Spirits, how _angry_ I am, too. I didn’t know-, no one had ever said I could be angry. But I am. I’m so mad sometimes my mind goes blank and I think I could swallow the world with the rage and hurt and fear.” 

Sokka winced, hearing her say these things-, he didn’t want it. It felt awful.

“And then what he said, about _him_ ,” She looked over at the tent, the fabric bristling somewhat in the night breeze, “I didn’t, I _couldn’t_ disagree.”

“You don’t have to,” Sokka said gently. 

“But I _want_ to. Spirits, I want to be free of the pain _so_ _bad_. And Aang,” Her eyes moved to Aang beside her, sleeping soundly, “He’s so kind, so forgiving, even after finding out about-,” She stopped herself. But she didn’t need to finish. The conversation was grim enough already.

Katara let in a shaky breath before continuing, “His first instinct when we decided to save Zuko in the temple, was to be _happy_ . He hoped we could make him our _friend._ How can I actively root for his demise while Aang hopes for his friendship? What does that say about me?”

“It says that you’re smart. That you didn’t grow up with the teachings Aang did. That you care for Aang and for me, and for yourself.” Sokka babbled off, not sure if he meant those things or not. But he understood where she was coming from. And he knew why she felt the way she did. Spirits, could he honestly say he didn’t feel somewhat the same? 

_I don't know._

“I don’t understand. I thought you-, I mean, it was _your_ idea to save him.”

Sokka shifted, he hated every potential route of this conversation; sans the one where they shut up, go to bed, and pretend it never happened. 

_“You can’t open up to save your life.”_

This is what she wanted. Talk. So he pushed through his own discomfort and tried to think up a response.

He settled on what he knew. Lay it out, and work from the bottom up.

“You didn’t see it. What the soldiers did. They’d already knocked you out,” She stiffened, clearly remembering the event, “He struggled against them, shouted at them to let him go.” Sokka cringed, remembering the sound Zuko’s body had made when it made contact with the bottom of the stairs. He looked back at Katara, who was watching him, a cautious guard poorly masking her curiosity. “So they did. They threw him down the staircase like he was nothing and laughed when he hit the bottom. It was a bad hit too, you could hear him crumple.”

Katara scrunched her nose, “That’s...gruesome. Why did they do that?”

“Because they’re Fire Nation soldiers and they’re horrible.”

That was his reply, but his thoughts varied considerably. Because the question she’d asked, the _why_ , it had been plaguing him ever since the Fire Sage Temple. 

_Why was he so scared?_

_Why did he nearly fry them all in his desperation?_

_Why did they throw their supposed crowned prince down a staircase and leave him to die?_

_Why had he been chained with them to begin with?_

_Why was he banished?_

_Why didn’t he try to escape them now?_

Sokka’s head hurt from all of it. The questions looping in and out of his mind atop the already vast pile of other shit he had to consider and push down and deliberate. 

Neither broached the topic again. She seemed content with his response, at least content enough to drop it for now.

“There’s something else,” Katara whispered, avoiding his eyes, “The reason I was crying.”

_What?_

_Hadn’t they already established she was upset because of their fight? What did she mean now?_

Sokka just stared dumbly at her, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s a quiet night,” She started, “I heard. I heard you. What you said while you were, helping him with his hair.”

“Uh, okay?”

She sighed, “I didn’t know that’s why you wear your hair that way.”

_Huh?_

“And what you said, about mom. I didn’t know that. Not all of it.”

“Katara, what are you trying to say?”

He didn’t like where this was going, what she was implying. 

“It’s just. You never talk about mom. Not to me. But a complete stranger? And _that_ particular stranger?”

“You have no place to judge about telling complete strangers about mom.” 

She gaped at him, but clamped her mouth shut. He was right.

“And besides. I wasn’t saying that to Zuko specifically. I thought he’d tune me out. I was just saying something to say something.”

“Yeah, and you said something I would have loved to hear.” It came out resentful and strained.

“Spirits, this is just stupid.” Sokka sighed.

She pursed her lips, “Why don’t you ever talk about mom with me?”

_Nope. Don’t wanna talk about this._

He kept quiet. 

“Please don’t go silent, Sokka. I just-, why can’t you talk about her with me?”

He moved his head away from her, to look at something, _anything_ other than her wide, pleading eyes.

“Don’t shut me out!” She cried, half-way between a whisper and a shout. They were going to wake up Aang if she kept this up. 

“Sokka-,”

“No.”

“Sokka.”

He shook his head. Didn’t she get it?

_Obviously not, asshole._

“Why-,”

“I can’t talk about mom while looking into her eyes!” He shouted, shocked that he’d vocalized it. 

Katara shrunk back, the tears returning to her eyes, an exact copy of their mother’s. She wiped at them furiously.

Sokka glanced over at Aang, who was still just as fast asleep as he’d been previously. Though his breathing pattern was somewhat off, and Sokka began to wonder if he had ever even _been_ asleep to begin with-

“Doesn’t stop me from wanting to talk about her with _you_.”

That derailed his train of thought effortlessly. 

_What does she-_

_Oh._

Sokka shook his head, “I have dad’s eyes.”

“No, you don’t,” she said softly.

He shut them immediately.

_No._

“Katara. I’m tired,” was all he said after that, waiting for her permission, confirmation that they could rest now, and ignore this in the morning. 

She nodded, doing nothing to stifle her yawn, “Me too.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Sokka was awake for two more hours, staring at the vast expanse of starry sky above him, drowning everything out with the pure wonder of gazing upon the stars. 

It would be morning soon. 

_Truly, a shitty, shitty day._

…

“Hey, watch this!”

Sokka rubbed at his sleep-glued eyes to see Aang’s trick. Aang let out a peel of laughter as he sprinted towards a tree, running up the trunk and spinning off, sending hundreds of dead leaves into flight, stripping the bottom half of the tree completely bare. They spiraled up and down, almost snow-like in the light trajectory they circled back to the ground. 

“Aang!” Katara whined, “You got leaves all over our sleeping bags!”

Indeed, their sleeping bags were now nearly buried in foliage. 

_Ew._

“Sorry, Katara,” Aang said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 

She rolled her eyes, turning away from him to hide her smile. Sokka wasn’t as amused, muttering under his breath as he shook out their sleeping bags, folding them lazily and stacking them upon each other.

“Oh, dear spirits,” Katara said, her voice a mix of horror and glee. Sokka looked up at her, more than ready to combat whatever stupid thing she was going to mock him for, but she wasn’t referring to him. Her eyes were set to something behind him, and her shoulders were shaking with poorly held laughter. 

He turned around, and, oh, shit.

Zuko had emerged from his tent, the tarp he used as a blanket folded neatly in his arms. And, _shit_ , he looked different in daylight. He looked, well, he looked-

_Stupid._

He moved towards them, apparently oblivious to how hard Sokka and Katara were trying to mask their laughter. 

Sokka couldn’t help it, he _had_ to say something. 

“Man, I gotta say, bald is just _not_ your look.”

That broke Katara, who started cackling. It was infectious, the sound of Katara’s absolute delight at how goofy Zuko looked completely bald, and soon enough Sokka’s abdomen hurt from laughing.

Zuko’s eyes widened before he pushed his face down, scowling. 

Aang landed next to them, sizing Zuko up before shrugging, “Not everyone can pull it off.” 

That just set him and Katara off further, and Sokka had to wipe away the tears springing up in the corner of his eyes. 

“Stop laughing!” Zuko shouted, which just inspired another fit of laughter from Sokka and Katara, and, _Spirits_ , it was starting to get painful. 

“I’m sorry-,” Sokka started, but he couldn’t finish, for in that moment he looked at Zuko again and, wow, he _really_ resembled an egg.

“Do you have a hat?” Zuko asked through gritted teeth. 

Sokka tried to _nod_ , but he didn’t have to, the hat they had was one Aang had bought. 

“Yeah, we do,” he heard Aang say.

…

Soon enough, Zuko was tying the ends of the hat, looking even more dour than usual. Sokka had settled down somewhat at that point, but Katara was hopeless. Even now that she was trying to muffle her laughter her shaking shoulders gave her away. 

“Get over it!” Zuko lamented, pulling the hat lower onto his head.

Katara sobered, leveling an icy glare at him.

“Whatever. I’m just teasing you, you get over it,” She said, rolling her eyes.

Sokka nodded, "Look, if you're gonna be with us, you're gonna have to deal when we laugh at you."

"I'm not with you." Zuko cemented, glaring at them.

"I mean. You kind of are, though," Aang said, tilting his head.

"No I'm not!"

Spirits, he sounded like a whining child.

"I mean, yeah, you kind of are. Until you decide your debt is paid."

Zuko frowned, dipping his head.

"His what?" Katara asked, looking between Zuko and Sokka.

_Oh, I guess I was the only one he explicitly told._

"The debt he thinks he owes us for saving his life several times over."

Katara squinted at him, but Sokka only shrugged. He thought it was obvious.

"So then, is he coming with us to the North Pole?"

Sokka had no clue why Aang was asking him, as if Zuko himself wasn't sitting _right there._

 _Right. Plan guy._

Spirits, he kinda just wanted to crack a joke. He had a couple good ones concerning their newly bald companion, but, alas, this needed to be done.

"I mea-,"

"What?" Zuko interrupted him, lifting his scowl from the dirt to their group.

"What?" Sokka challenged, a little miffed he'd been cut off mid plan-monologue.

"Take me with you to the Nor-, I mean. Ugh! Aren't you taking me to an Earth Kingdom prison?"

_Woah. Huh?_

Sokka looked to Aang and Katara, but they were just as lost as he was. 

"Of course we're not!" Aang managed, finally breaking their confused silence.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” Katara asked, as if she wasn’t the most likely of them all to support taking Zuko to an Earth Kingdom prison.

Zuko looked across the three of them, dumbfounded. But then his expression went eerily calm, “Oh. I get it now. You’re idiots.”

_Really? Well-_

“That’s rich coming from _you_ ,” Katara said, the first of them to close her gaping mouth and go on the offensive. 

Sokka was right there with her, “ _Yeah._ I mean if _we’re_ idiots, you’re king, sorry, _prince,_ idiot. I mean you traveled around in a War Ship, a small army at your back, and the closest you ever got to any of us is when Aang went willingly and when we saved your ass from dying in that temple!” He rattled off, talking fast with his hands supporting the words animatedly. 

“Exactly!” Katara huffed, folding her arms and smirking.

“At least I know how to keep a war prisoner!”

“Please. You had Aang for what, an hour? Two?" Katara mocked. 

Sokka wanted to high five his little sister, her mean streak was excellent when it wasn’t directed at him.

Zuko muttered something incoherent. 

“Guys! Guys!” Aang called them all back to attention, momentarily disrupting the glowering match that had begun between Sokka, Katara, and Zuko. “ _No one_ here is an idiot, and _no one_ here is being taken to prison!”

Katara slumped her shoulders a bit, and for a moment something like guilt passed over her expression, but Sokka saw it replaced immediately with surprise.

“Zuko?” She asked, eyes widening.

Her concern was well placed, when Sokka turned to look at him again, Zuko was swaying somewhat, his expression blank. 

“Uh-,” Sokka began,

But before he could finish the thought Zuko crashed over onto the ground, hitting it with a _thump._

He’d fainted.

…

“Oh, no! It was the hat, wasn’t it?” Aang cried, fidgeting nervously beside Katara. They were both standing behind Sokka, who had moved over to where Zuko was now lying unconscious.

Sokka shook his head, “He wasn’t wearing it long enough for it to have been the hat.”

 _Besides, your head is huge_ , is what he didn't verbalize.

He looked closer, and certain things that he hadn’t seen in the night became searingly obvious. Zuko’s lips were beyond chapped, his eyes somewhat sunken in and rimmed with sleepless bruises. 

_How long has he been like this?_

“He’s dehydrated,” Sokka said confidently.

Katara was on the other side of Zuko in a second, directly across from Sokka. She pulled the cork off her waterskin, and covered each finger of her right hand with droplets of water. Then she flicked her hand open, flecking the water off her fingers and onto Zuko’s face.

For a moment all Sokka could do was stare at Katara with his mouth slightly open. He blinked slowly, 

“That means he needs to _consume_ water, Katara. Not be soaked with it!”

She squinted, “I know what it means! I did that to wake him up.”

_Oh. Oops._

“I’m not actually as stupid as you think I am-,”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is he awake?” Sokka interjected, slipping into his sardonic comfort zone.

She pouted, re-corking her waterskin.

Zuko didn’t stir, and Sokka briefly wondered how long fainting spells were supposed to last. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Aang asked, face etched with genuine worry. 

_His capacity for compassion is never not going to be a shock_ _to my system._

Sokka sighed, “He only fainted. He’ll come to eventually. Let’s just pack our stuff and move on. We’ve been in this area of the Earth Kingdom far too long.”

That, they could all agree on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who likes/comments/bookmarks/subscribes, I'm so grateful for all of it. 
> 
> Also! I made a tumblr for this fic specifcally where I'll be posting first draft nonsense/cut scenes/ exposing my outlines/ general atla discourse and fuckery, so come chill with me @thebisonsmouth
> 
> I hope you had fun, and I hope I'll see you back here again.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. The Line Drawn Between Mercy And Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back!
> 
> There's quite a few more of you here than when I last updated, so hello! Happy to have y'all here. But also...where did you come from??? Do you know what you've been doing to my email? Hmm? Well keep doing it I'm thriving off the validation😌
> 
> Always, thank you to everyone who likes/comments/bookmarks/subscribes, I'm so grateful for all of it.
> 
> All my rants will be in the end notes let's get into the chapter!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Living in continued exile after exaggerated rumors of your tragic demise amongst people who would sooner call you an enemy than a friend, always seemed far more exciting in Opera. Maybe it was the lack of instrumentation, but Zuko was beginning to genuinely doubt the appeal of hijinks. Especially now as he sat hiding between the trunk of a tree and a rock, hidden well by surrounding shrubbery, wondering why the fuck he’d agreed to play this stupid game. 

Aang had been the one to suggest it, handling the rest of their fatigue the day after crossing a grueling canyon with all the tact a twelve year old boy could muster, which is to say, _none whatsoever_.

Zuko thought he’d be in the clear when Sokka shot the idea down, droning on about time management and distance and so on and on who gives a fuck. But then Katara had teased that the only reason he didn’t want to play was because he knew he’d be bad at it, and the conversation was more or less over from there. 

It wasn't so much that he was opposed to avoiding the three of them, just that he hated to think they'd somehow perceive his participation as joining in on their ‘fun’. 

But the silence _was_ nice, if a bit disconcerting. 

The two days spent in Jet's hideout had been the closest thing to peace and quiet he'd experienced during this cruel twist of fate, because there he’d simply slipped further up into the branches and leaves and let himself be forgotten. Of course it was immediately ended with a misadventure and the unceremonious hacking of his hair, stripping any and all remaining legitimacy from his titles. So. Maybe not as peaceful as he was accrediting. 

Since then it had been a little like floating on water. Time fell away, as if it had simply ceased existing, and after realizing the others truly had no idea what to do with him, it became easy to forget the future existed in any capacity at all. Which was a first in his emotional reaction bank, but not necessarily unwelcome. Being angry all the time took work, being empty was kind of like being tired. And he was very, very, tired.

So much so he might have dozed off against that rock, claiming the hours of rest that usually evaded him in the night, had the tranquility not been disrupted by a string of cursing and cracking branches to his right. 

Without warning he was being aggressively pushed to the side, back scraping against the rougher grooves in the rock.

“ _Move!_ ”

Sokka.

His nice hiding place was being invaded by a very pushy and _very_ out of breath Sokka.

“What the fuck!” He yelled, breath hitching violently when a hand smacked against his mouth, holding it shut.

“Hush!” Sokka hissed, “Are you _trying_ to be found?” 

A moment passed and Sokka still hadn’t moved his hand. Straining his peripheral, Zuko discerned Sokka was staring out past the well-hidden nook between the rock and tree, trying to catch his breath. 

_Fuck it._

He did the very first thing he thought might incentivize Sokka to _move his fucking hand_ , and the reaction was just as expected.

“What the-, gah!”

Sokka wiped his hand furiously on his pant leg, “Did you just _lick_ my hand?” He sputtered out, horror dawning on his face.

“Did you just cover my mouth?” Zuko shot back, praying to everything in the universe the heat welling in his face was from the sudden rush of movement after a period of inactivity instead of...well.

_Ick._

“I was trying to get you to quiet down!” Sokka whispered, punctuating the words enough to assure Zuko that it would have been a shriek in a seperate context, one where Sokka wasn’t doing his best to be fucking ridiculous. 

“Why are you even here? This is _my_ hiding spot.” 

Sokka raised an eyebrow, a grin slowly shaping on his lips, “So you _are_ playing? Like, for real?”

“No.”

He snickered, “Sure. And my spot got compromised by Momo, this one looked promising.”

They went silent after that, the only sound coming from the leaves rustling in a light breeze and Sokka’s labored breathing, but eventually that subsided too. 

“Nice place you got here.” Sokka quipped, and Zuko turned to see him staring around the cramped space, as if he were appraising its construction.

He didn’t say anything to that, just rolled his eyes and studied the arbitrary pattern of the tree’s bark. 

Sokka shifted beside him, for one exasperating moment poking into Zuko’s arm with an elbow as he positioned himself into a proper way of sitting. They were close to brushing shoulders now.

 _He really knows how to take up space,_ Zuko thought bitterly, missing the breath of solitude he’d enjoyed earlier.

“Oh!” Sokka broke the silence with a slap to his forehead, “I almost forgot. We’re going to pack up camp after this, there’s a village about a days flight from here. That work for you?”

_Huh?_

But there wasn’t a trace of a joke in Sokka’s expression, just vague anticipation for an answer. A shock of discomfort hit in his chest. 

_What does it matter what I think?_

“Uh. Okay.” He finally replied, moving his stare back to the tree.

“Cool.”

After a few tense seconds, Zuko finally let himself relax into their new, relatively less awkward, silence. 

“How are your wrists, by the way?”

_What? Oh._

He stared at the fading pink marks along his wrists from when he’d burned through Jet’s rope, “Fine. I think my sleeves and the rope took the most of the heat.”

Sokka nodded absently, already switching tracks, “And you’ve drinken water today?”

Zuko groaned, “Are you seriously going ask that every fucking day? It’s been a week!”

Sokka tutted, “I'll only ask until we have two straight weeks of no fainting.”

“I already told you that was a fluke! I haven’t had any issues since.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re annoying.” Zuko snapped, wishing very much Aang would find them and end this stupid game. 

He did, eventually, and laughed at the both of them for not understanding that hide-and-seek was meant to be played _individually._

…

Flying was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of the worst sensations in the entire world. And it went beyond the disregard for gravity and the weightless descents that folded his stomach over, it was also a little painful.

At first he hadn’t noticed the way the air became thin and cold the higher the bison soared, sending an aching discomfort through the left side of his face. He’d usually been too focused on other things; nearly falling to his death and nearly falling off a waterfall, for example. But as the days he spent in the Avatar’s company increased, it became impossible to ignore the tightening pressure. It wasn’t the worst thing, but it certainly wasn’t a phenomenal sensation. 

And then there was the actual _flying_ of the bison, which ranged from manageable coasting to horrific speeding, depending on the mood of whichever of the others took the reins. 

On this particular day it was Aang, who’d been complaining earlier about a nightmare, at least that’s what Zuko thought he’d been talking about, frankly he checked out of that conversation almost the second it started. 

And for fuck’s sweet sake he was flying like a _madman_. 

Zuko couldn’t comprehend how a beast that gigantic could go so fucking fast, but here it was, racing through the air with no regard for how the pace might be affecting the nausea of certain passengers. 

_Fuck. Pull it together._

The bison swerved to the right, and it was all Zuko could do to grasp desperately at one of the ropes that held down their tarp, protecting the supplies beneath. 

_Breathe._

He held the rope tighter.

_Breathe._

He tugged down on it, pulling it with him as the bison pushed forward. 

_Breathe._

The tension fell away, and he was weightless again. 

_The rope snapped._

“Fuck!” 

…

Zuko hadn’t fallen asleep. He’d been all too aware of the ensuing chaos after the rope he’d been holding onto snapped off and wilted in his hands. He heard Katara’s panic and Sokka flinging himself onto the tarp to try and keep the supplies from flying out of the saddle. He’d even heard Aang’s delighted _“Good job, buddy!”_ when the creature finally, _finally_ landed. 

But his eyes were shut, and he was laying flat on his back on the floor of the bison’s saddle, wondering if maybe this was all an elaborate dream, cooked up by his lack of sleep in the weeks since he’d first spotted the Avatar.

“Ooh! Katara!” It was Aang’s voice again, but he sounded further than before, most likely he’d gotten off the bison. “I think I see Mangos in that fruit stand!”

“Really?”

_Ow._

Katara was still in the saddle, that much he could distinguish by how much louder her shout was in his ear than Aang’s had been.

He was cognisant of a little more shuffling, then the excited chatter of Katara and Aang as they moved further away to explore whatever shitty seaport they’d found. 

“Hey, c’mon get up,” Sokka said, kicking lightly at Zuko’s leg.

_Fuck. Just leave me here to die. At least then the print master’s efforts on these portraits won't have been wasted._

“Hey,” Sokka’s voice again, stilted and uncomfortable, but almost like he was _trying_ to be gentle. 

_He thinks I’m weak._

“It’s fine. I hated flying on Appa at first too, eventually you just get used to it.”

_Eventually?_

He didn’t _want_ to get used to it. He never wanted to do it again. He _wanted_ to be home. 

But, there was nothing mocking or condescending in Sokka’s voice. He wasn’t trying to exploit the weakness Zuko had so carelessly bared in front of all of them. He sounded, well, he sounded near empathetic. Which was fucking _weird._

So Zuko opened his eyes, allowing the situation to exist as it was. 

The sky was clear, and brilliantly blue. 

_Say something._

“You hate flying too?” 

Fuck, he sounded like he’d been crying. 

He didn’t dare look directly at Sokka, who he now registered was sitting beside him.

“Yeah, I do. I got over it.”

It would have been fine if Sokka had left it at that, but for no discernible reason, he kept going:

"Once, in the beginning, I fell off. It was the first time I'd gotten to fly Appa, and I wasn't ready for the turbulence, Aang had to fly down to catch me and I almost took out his glider with my kicking!"

He was talking in that weird way of his, like he’d been swept away in his own story, eyes lighting up as he recounted the comical nature in which he’d fallen off the bison. 

Zuko realized too late he’d been staring, and only caught himself when Sokka cleared his throat, shifting his head away sheepishly. 

“So uh, yeah. It’s, uh, fine.” Sokka finished off, standing and taking a breath before offering out both of his hands. 

_Don’t. Let him get annoyed and walk off to find the others. Then run off._

Another moment passed before he was gripping Sokka’s hands, pulling himself up from the saddle and once again choosing to stay.

_Fuck._

…

Finding Aang and Katara proved easy enough. They were marveling over a fruit stand, Aang scrutinizing the bunch while Katara cradled four Mangos. 

“Sokka!” Katara called, lighting up when she noticed her older brother. 

Aang turned and grinned, ushering them over, "There you are! Check out this selection, they've got fruit from _everywhere_! And check these out! They look like plums, but their coloring is lighter and they're a bit smaller than normal plums, I think they're hybrids!"

The Avatar was practically vibrating with his excitement, babbling on about the fruit.

"We forgot the money though, did you bring it?" Katara managed to get in between Aang's chitter.

"Yeah," Sokka said, voice distant.

Zuko looked over at him quizzically. Sokka's attention seemed caught as he fumbled for the small coin purse usually tied to his belt. 

_What's up with him?_

He handed Aang the purse, pointedly staring at the fruit cart. 

"Uh, Sokka?" Aang asked, "It's empty."

 _That_ brought Sokka back from whatever train of thought he'd been lost on. 

"What?"

Katara grabbed for it first, checking skeptically. Her shoulders fell almost immediately, "It is. We're out of money."

"How is that possible? We _just_ got new funds from Senlin Village!" Sokka insisted, taking the empty purse back and shoving it off into his shirt. 

"Well, we did have to restock all of our supplies, that wasn't cheap." Aang offered.

"And anyways, it's not like we blew a large sum of money. We barely had enough to stock up last time." Katara reasoned, staring sadly at the Mangos she'd set back on the fruit stand.

"Still, we need food." Sokka whined.

They were all silent, contemplating their scarce funds as if the solution wasn't blatantly obvious.

_Do they need it spelled out?_

Yeah, apparently.

"We could always steal the food," Zuko said, fixing his gaze on the wooden walk along the seaport, demonstrating inconspicuous gazing.

"Steal it?" Aang parroted, eyebrows sloping down in distress, "We can't do that. Can we?"

" _No,_ " Katara scolded, "We Aren't stealing food!"

"Don't act like you're above it." Zuko snapped back, annoyed at their reservation. 

"That was different!" She insisted, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Maybe…," Sokka trailed off, looking directly at the fruit cart. He shrugged, "Maybe just this once."

"Sokka!"

"What? Look, we need food. We have no money. What are we supposed to do?"

_Finally, some sense._

"Oh I don't know!" Katara shouted, "Maybe you could _get a job!"_

_Well that's just absurd._

But Sokka was already visibly caving.

"Where am I supposed to get a job?" He asked, the forced aloofness in his tone did nothing to mask his shame.

_Please. This is the dumbest-_

“Crazy old bat!” 

Their conversation was cut off by an external yell, and Zuko turned to see two people, an old man and woman caught in a quarrel, several fallen barrels between them.

“I’m telling you! There’s a storm coming! I’m not going out in that weather!” The old woman shouted.

Zuko peered at the sky, it was a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight. It was even a slightly warmer day than normal in the western Earth Kingdom’s temperate climate. 

“Fine by me! Go on then!” The old man gestured rudely at the women, turning to pick up the barrels. 

“You stupid man!” But she heeded his order, walking off with a string of aggressive curses.

The old man muttered something under his breath and sighed, placing the last of the fallen barrels upright. 

Their little group started to move the other way when shouting stopped them in their tracks. 

“Hey! You boys!” It came from the old man, one hand cupped beside his mouth and the other picking out Sokka and Zuko specifically and waving them over. 

_Ugh, fuck off._

But Sokka was already moving towards him, blind of the fact they didn’t _have_ to approach a stranger just because said stranger had called them over. 

Zuko only moved when Aang pushed him forward, not even offering a reason as to _why._

When they were all close enough to get a better look at eachother, the old man raked his eyes between them, visibly unimpressed. 

“Either of you boys know how to fish?”

Zuko contorted his face into a disgusted grimace, _of course he didn’t know how to fish, he wasn’t a peasa-_

“Y-yeah. I can fish.” Sokka answered, shuffling uncomfortably at the old man’s sour expression. 

“Great. We set off in ten minutes.”

_Uh-_

“‘Set off?’” Sokka repeated, just as lost as Zuko was.

“I need a partner, mine just left. I’ll pay you.”

 _That_ perked Sokka’s attention,

“Okay!”

Zuko gaped, surely he wasn’t _actually_ going to-

“Ten minutes, I want both of you loading up these barrels.”

“ _Both_ of us?” Zuko asked harshly, horrified at the thought he’d been roped into fishing on the ugly wooden ship that rocked in the water behind the old man. 

“That gonna be a problem?” The fisherman challenged. 

“No, not at all! Thanks for the job.” Sokka answered quickly before Zuko could get a word in. Fair enough, considering the word he wanted to get in was anything but civil. 

The fisherman ‘hmphed’ before turning away, leaving up the dock to further prep his shitty boat. 

Sokka preemptively took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender, “Before you set me on fire, consider this! We needed work, now we have work.”

“ _Y_ _ou_ needed work. I already offered _my_ solution.”

Sokka cowered a bit at the severity in Zuko’s tone. 

_Oh._

_Oh fuck._

He untensed his shoulders, “I’m not gonna set you on fire.”

“I know that! I was kidding.” Sokka rambled, but the flash of fear that Zuko had seen in his earlier expression spoke otherwise. 

_Whatever._

“What did he want?” Katara asked, walking up beside them with Aang at her heels.

“To hire us,” Sokka said proudly. 

“Really? That’s- hang on, _us?_ ”

“That’s great Sokka!” Aang interjected, sparing them from Katara’s vocal disapproval.

The Fisherman returned shortly after, coming above deck then walking over when he spotted Aang. 

Aang donned his signature grin, “Hello! Thanks for hiring my friends!”

_Oh?_

“You,” the Fisherman breathed, “You’re the Avatar, ain't ya?”

Impossibly, Aang’s smile got even wider, “Yes, sir!”

“Well don’t look so proud of yourself!” He snapped, causing Aang to _wilt._ “You abandoned this world to the grip of the Fire Nation, the entire world’s fucked thanks to you!”

“Excuse you? Aang didn’t abandon _anybody_.” Katara fumed, scowling at the fisherman. 

“Tell that to the war,” he said, moving back towards his ship. 

“What a horrible old man! You shouldn’t work for him.” Katara cemented, folding her arms and pursing her lips. 

“Katara, we need the money.” Sokka reasoned. 

“Well then the least you can do is try and knock some sense into him.”

“He was right Katara,” Aang said softly, his small frame still sagging in on itself. 

“What? Of course he wasn’t.”

_Ugh, spare us the melodrama._

“I did abandon the world! This is all my fault!” He swung out his staff in time with his outburst and took off, growing smaller as he flew up into the mountains. 

“Are you gonna go after him?” Sokka asked a while later, tentatively.

Katara sighed, still watching the area Aang had flown into, “Yeah. How long will you be gone?”

“We should be back for dinner, it’s a fishing job.”

Katara nodded, moving to where the bison still rested in the water, “If you’re not?”

“Assume we got caught in a storm.”

She frowned, “That’s not funny.”

_It was kind of funny._

…

_This makes no fucking sense. He made this up._

Zuko tried to follow along as the fisherman explained, for the third time, exactly how they were to lower and lift the net. Sokka followed along studiously, fascinated by the shotty mechanics that were clearly improvised by the man’s own hand. 

“Then you pull down on these ropes and the net comes up easily.”

“Like a lever.” Sokka mused, holding his chin with his left hand.

“Sure. Now, I have some work to attend below deck, I’ll be back within the hour. You lower it for twenty minutes, pull back up. Once you’ve done three rotations, we’ll move on.”

Sokka nodded while Zuko just stared, still not entirely clear on what exactly they were supposed to do. 

It didn’t matter much in the end, though, as Sokka seemed more than content to do it all himself. 

Zuko took to staring out at the water, watching the waves push and pull, rocking the boat ever so slightly. 

_What the fuck am I doing here?_

He searched the sea below him for an answer, but there was nothing. In no universe did it make sense for him to be out on a peasant fishing boat beside a close confidant of the Avatar while the rest of the world believed him to be dead.

 _And yet._

He watched Sokka settle to his right, propping his arms on the ship’s edge and sighing. 

“You keep looking at the sky,” Zuko said, unsure as to why he felt the need to point it out. It was true though, Sokka hadn’t been subtle with his constant glances upwards.

“Oh, yeah. Guess I’m just nervous.” He admitted, pulling closer into himself. 

_Nervous?_

“Why?”

Sokka laughed weakly, “It’s stupid.”

Zuko waited. 

“ _Fine._ I just, I don’t know, I’ve never really been apart from Katara this long without either of us knowing exactly where the other is. And then all this stuff with Aang, I’m just, worried about them.”

"Oh.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. His silence was mostly brought on by his own alarm as he imagined having to spend that much time with Azula. 

_I think I'd rather die._

“It’s weird, you know,” Sokka continued, picking at his nails, “To see how big the world is.”

_Oh?_

“I never thought it could extend beyond my village, and now, well. I can’t really envision it the way I used to.”

Zuko nodded, he actually could understand that point. There was a time in his life when the world was nothing more than large maps and war stories, kept out by domineering walls and vast comfort. 

“Like, it used to just exist in your head, like it wasn’t _real,_ ” Zuko said, staring down at his own hands. 

“ _Yes._ Exactly that. I just couldn’t imagine what else was out there. Especially after...and then we found Aang and it just got so big so fast and it still hasn’t slowed down.”

“Actually, I thought the world would be bigger.” He admitted. 

Sokka waited for him to continue.

“But it’s not. It’s mostly just water and forest, with the exception of the North and South poles, which are just cold.”

“Hold it there buddy, the South Pole is a _lot_ more than cold,” Sokka said defiantly.

He rolled his eyes.

“But, I think I get what you mean.” Sokka conceded, staring back out at the horizon.

…

When the time came, Sokka briefly explained what Zuko was supposed to do to pull the rope up, unnervingly composed. 

They tugged at their respective ropes and hauled the soaked net from the sea. 

“What!” Sokka exclaimed, securing his rope to get closer to the net.

It was completely empty. 

“Maybe we pulled up too early?”

“Maybe.”

They hauled the rope back in and settled back into silence. 

“You know you’re dangerously easy to talk to,” Sokka said after a while, tapping his fingers on the ship’s wooden edge, “I think it’s because you rarely talk back.”

“ ‘Who am I to stop a fool spouting nonsense?’ ” Zuko replied, cringing a bit at his botched delivery. 

“Nice line. How long did it take you to come with it?” Sokka teased.

“It’s a quote.” He confessed.

“From what?”

Zuko started to respond, then stopped when he realized he was about to admit to quoting an aria from one of his mother’s favorite Operas. 

“Doesn’t matter.” he muttered, hoping Sokka would just drop it. 

Thankfully, he did.

Un-thankfully, the slight discomfort that had begun at the seam of his scar spread into a light ache. 

_Fuck._

He looked out onto the horizon, now very aware of the darkening skyline. It seemed there would be a storm after all. 

...

Despite the growing cloud coverage, the sun was still beating down on their necks as they brought the net up for the third time, revealing it to be, once again, empty.

"Ugh! This is fucking impossible!" Zuko cried out, tossing the soaking net onto the deck.

"You know, normally I'd take up the opposite opinion just for the sake of disagreeing with you, but, yeah. This is never going to work."

Zuko kicked the net, one snap away from setting everything on fire. He didn't, though. He just steamed for a minute more before sitting down on the deck, arms crossed over his knees as he pulled them to his chest.

"Of course I suck at this. What the fuck else is new."

He heard a shuffle and a _thump_ as Sokka sat down too, pulling the net closer to his person and studying it.

"It's not us," Sokka said at last, holding his corner of the net up lazily, "It's the net. The holes are too big for the fish that swim out here." 

Sokka stuck his arm through one of said holes, pulling it all the way up his shoulder to prove his point. 

Zuko stared mutely at the net.

"But, I think I can fix it."

 _That_ caught Zuko's attention.

"How?"

Sokka was already moving, spreading the wet net out across the deck. He didn't even have to ask, Zuko caught on to what he was doing and flattened the other corners on his side. Not pausing for breath Sokka retreated towards a wooden bucket that housed various replicas of the net they'd splayed across the deck. He tugged one free and walked back over. 

"If we place this net above the other one just right, we can tie them together and quarter the holes of each net." Sokka reasoned.

"Oh, that's-,"

"Brilliant? Yeah, I know."

_Yeah, actually._

“Never going to work,” he said instead. 

Sokka shrugged, tossing the second net over the wet one.

They worked in silence, adjusting and readjusting until the two nets created a perfect pattern of significantly smaller holes.

It was a bit difficult to fit the new thickness of the rope through the fisherman’s makeshift reeling hooks, but with enough force they were able to pull it through and lower the nets into the water, watching them submerge and disappear into the opaque sea.

...

A crack of thunder pounded overhead, and Zuko looked up to see the storm clouds were much closer, ominous and looming. 

“You boys fit to work through a storm?”

Zuko jumped at the sound, the fisherman had come from behind them, standing far into his blind spot. 

“Yes, sir.” Sokka answered, moving to the rope, readying to pull up the net. 

Zuko mirrored his movement and was shocked at how much greater of an effort it was taking them to reel the net in. It took a minute for them to pull it all the way up, and when they finally did it gave way to a net near full of fish, wriggling in the salty air

“Yes!” Sokka cried out, grinning as they pulled the net over the edge of the ship, letting the haul fall onto the deck. 

“Incredible," the fisherman said, his usual curmudgeonly demeanor melting into genuine gratitude. 

“Yeah, I’m awesome.” Sokka breathed, admiring his one success. 

Another roar of thunder interrupted their exaltation.

The fisherman chuckled, “Looks like the dragons are out tonight!”

_Huh?_

“Dragons?” Sokka asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The fisherman nodded, “Thunder, boy, it’s the roar of Great Dragons in the sky.”

Zuko frowned, he’d never heard such a thing in his entire life. 

“But there aren’t anymore dragons,” he said, looking at the sky in stupefaction. 

“You can’t kill dragons, boy.” The Fisherman replied darkly, still staring at the sky.

_I have an entire family history confirming you absolutely can kill dragons._

He bit his tongue. 

The Fisherman took no notice or care of their respective confusion, moving back to marvel at the fishing haul. 

“You know, you boys were more competent than I expected. Store these in the barrels and join me for some food.”

Sokka lit up at the mention of food, and Zuko couldn’t deny his own gnawing hunger, allowing all consideration of dragons to cease.

…

The singular cabin on the Fisherman’s ship was, well, a genuine trash heap, but the food he’d been prodding them with wasn’t half bad. Though really, anything was better than Katara’s stews. 

Sokka kept the man engaged with conversation, allowing Zuko to exist on the outside contentedly. 

It was hard to say when the conversation shifted, when small talk and bad jokes turned into conspiratorial ponderance, but one moment Zuko was listening to Sokka call firebenders ‘jerkbenders’ and the next he was biting back disgust as the Fisherman told them what the Crab Legs in Ba Sing Se were really made of. 

“Oh ew!” Sokka cringed, pushing the last of his dinner away and shivering. 

The Fisherman just laughed, swearing up and down it was true.

“Have you seen the portraits?” The Fisherman asked into their comfortable silence, picking at his teeth with a fishbone.

_Huh?_

“What portraits?” Sokka prodded, stuffing his face with another bite of fish, having moved on from his ten second disgust. 

“Of the Fire Lord’s dead son.”

What would have been a shocked silence was filled instead by Sokka choking on a half-chewed bite of fish.

“Uhm, no. We haven’t.” Zuko managed, trying to cover Sokka’s reaction with feigned nonchalance. 

The old man just nodded slowly, contemplating something behind disinterested eyes.

“It’s ridiculous,” he finally said, making no acknowledgement of their stunned reactions.

“So, you don’t believe the reports, then?” Zuko asked, trying not to sound too eager, but fuck if he wasn’t curious to see where this was going. 

“Absolutely not,” the man cemented, “Any tradesmen worth their salt knows that boy died years ago.”

_HUH?_

“But that’s not true,” Sokka said, face contorted with confusion but refusing to meet anyone’s direct gaze. 

“That’s what they want you to think, boy!” The old man asserted, straightening his posture to stare at Sokka dead on. 

_People already thought I was dead?_

“Who’s ‘they’?” Sokka asked, puzzled over the _wrong fucking detail_.

“The Fire Nation. Do you know what it says of a man to kill his own child?”

_Oh, fuck._

Zuko snuck a glance at Sokka, whose eyes were practically bugging from their sockets. Sokka snapped that look of utter bewilderment to meet his stare, so Zuko shifted it, wanting nothing more than to crumble in on himself.

_He’s gonna figure it out. Fuck._

“I mean burn a kid, that’s one thing. My father wasn’t a ray of sunshine either, but there’s no way the kid survived that shit. Not a fucking chance. I heard the Firelord walked right up to the boy and set his entire head on fire, watching it melt away.”

The answer to _that_ was a wicked crack of thunder.

“Oh!” The old man startled, jostled by the shifting waves that tossed the ship from side to side in an aggressive lull. 

“You boys finish up, I think we might need to reduce sail, no need to send us to the depths of the sea!" He guffawed, oblivious to the tension that had enveloped the small cabin.

Neither of them stirred as he got up, brushed his clothing off and left the cramped cabin, grumbling more nonsense about storms and dragons. 

Zuko studied the grooves in the table, tracing invisible patterns with the scattered lines in the wooden boards, intentionally avoiding the look he knew Sokka was giving him. 

“What? No condolence this time around for my apparently even _more_ untimely death?” His voice was embarrassingly unmeasured, shaking and tense. 

He couldn’t take Sokka’s silence anymore. Sokka always had _something_ to say, so his lack of commentary was more than a little unnerving. Zuko risked looking away from the safety of the wooden table to face him.

And as he’d suspected, Sokka _was_ looking at him. 

No. 

Not _him._

He was looking at the scar. 

_He knows._

Zuko pushed his head down, furious and shamed all at once. 

_It’s cherry wood. Has to be. The subtle rouge is a dead give away. It’s a very nice table, nicer than he’d expect-_

“What he said, was that,” Sokka paused, as if he could barely hold onto the words he was speaking, “Was that true?”

_Fuck._

Zuko took a breath, steadying himself, “Obviously not. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

_Double Fuck._

“Well then what did you mean?” He challenged.

_No need to hide it, come right out with it and mock me._

“You know.”

He did. And now Sokka knew, too. 

_Maybe I can still lie my way out of it…_

But no. He’d clammed up, confirming Sokka’s suspicions with every stupid second he spent avoiding the conversation that was about to take place.

“He doesn’t know anything, and neither do you.” Zuko managed, still boring his gaze into the finer grain of the wooden table’s finish.

“Then tell me.” Sokka whispered.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of-,”

“My business. Right.”

_Exactly. It’s no one’s fucking business._

“Look, I know it isn’t, I know you don’t owe it to me, or anyone, but, you can tell me.”

_Why is he talking like that?_

Zuko couldn’t look up, he knew what he’d see when he did. There were only two options: revulsion or pity. Both made him want to retch.

“Tell you what? You already have your fucking answer.” 

Was he speaking too harshly? 

“Zuko-,”

He snapped his eyes up. Sokka had not _once_ called him by his name. Not directly. And he was doing it now, with such suffocatingly awful commiseration Zuko thought he might combust.

“Fine! You want to know? Want a key into my shame so you can mock it?”

“ _No-,_ ”

“When I was thirteen I disrespected my father and he challenged me to an Agni Kai. I was too weak to fight back and too shameful to spare so he pressed his fucking hand to my face and three weeks later I woke up on ship deaf in one ear and blind in one eye, banished from my Nation and was told the only way I’d get to go home is if I reconciled my honorless behavior by bringing the Avatar to my father! Is that what you wanted to know? Cause that’s all I’ve fucking got for you.” He was breathless by the end of it, wishing immediately he could claw those words back down his throat. But now they were out there, hanging miserable and heavy in the air. 

“ _Thirteen_?” Sokka whispered. 

“Don’t you _dare_ pity me.”

“Spirits, do you _hear_ yourself?”

Sokka sounded mad. 

_Why the fuck is he mad?_

“You make it sound like you deserved it.” Sokka spat, and for the first time Zuko looked at him dead on.

“It was merciful.”

Sokka’s eyes bugged, “ _No._ That’s not mercy, it’s, _spirits_ , it’s one of the cruelest things I’ve ever heard.”

“No.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“No! Don’t pretend to know _anything_ other than your own baseless assumptions. I was spared death. Do you-, that is a sign of _weakness._ To spare an...opponent. To leave them scarred is to deny your own ultimate victory. It’s just how it had to play out. We have tradition, we have rules older than the fucking Nations themselves. It had to happen. It had to.”

“You don’t believe that.” 

“Don’t tell me what I don’t believe!”

He expected Sokka to shrink back, but his resolve was almost like Katara’s in its cold emboldened fury, “Spirits, you’re impossible! How can you sit here and act like what happened to you was merciful, your own father, I mean, he _mutilated you_!”

“Mutilated?” 

_Fuck, that sounded so wounded._

“I-, I’m sorry-,”

“It’s fine. I figured it was bad.” He interjected, focusing back on the table. He didn’t want to cry, mostly in fear of what Sokka’s response to dry sobbing would be. 

“No, what I said, that came out _wrong-_ , hang on. ‘Figured’? You mean, you haven’t-,”

“Not a lot of mirrors on a Warship,” He answered, catching on at once to what Sokka meant, “But. I, yeah. I’m sure it’s quite...bad?”

“You don’t know?”

Zuko scowled, “Well, I can make a pretty fair assumption based on you alone.”

“What? No, I-,” Sokka was sputtering, and Zuko found himself tiring from his previous fit of yelling. He couldn’t believe he’d said all that, and to Sokka, a borderline _stranger_ , no less. 

_“You’re dangerously easy to talk to.”_

Fuck, he’d really just put it _all_ out there like that. 

_What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me?_

“Just drop it,” He said, effectively ending Sokka’s attempt to rectify his poor reaction.

“You’re not-,”

“Sokka. Stop,” He cut off. He didn’t need anymore pity, or, _fuck_ , anymore righteous anger. 

“You’re not ugly.”

_What?_

He looked back up, searching Sokka’s face, which was now turned down to the table.

“I mean, if that’s, if that’s what you thought. I, shit this is... s _pirits_ , I can’t-, I mean-. You’re not ugly at all, you’re quite-, well, I mean, you know. I, uh, _shit._ ”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said softly, pretending Sokka’s words were just meaningless sentiments.

“I think-,”

But Zuko didn’t get a chance to hear what Sokka thought, for in that moment a loud crash interrupted the remnants of their tense conversation, and they were both up in an instant. 

…

The storm had grown much worse during their time below deck, the sky twisting into violent shades of grey, swollen with clouds and spewing rain. The crash they’d heard was the snapping of the central mast, the tip of it charred and burning in front of them.

“It was struck by lightning!” Sokka shouted.

_Oh fuck._

The fire was spreading from the chunk of wood, it’d set the entire ship in flame if he didn’t do something.

“Move!” He yelled, pushing past Sokka to get a better vantage point, desperately raking through his brain for a technique that might help him.

_I don’t have anything! I don’t know what to do!_

Most fires he dealt with outside of training were lamp fires, lit once for reading at night, and then extinguished for sleep. He had _nothing_ for the mess before him.

_"I was always taught that bending was an instinct first, skill second.”_

Aang’s words from all those nights ago swam to front of his mind, accompanied with the one he held like a mantra:

_Breathe._

He thought about a type of movement that might remove the flame from the broken mast, picturing the waves Aang and Katara would sometimes pull from streams when they practiced.

_Breathe._

In a swift movement he pulled the flame towards him then pushed it into the sky, watching it dissipate. 

_It worked._

Everything grew darker with that source of light extinguished, and he watched as lightning illuminated the angry sky. 

“Zuko! Get over here!” It was Sokka, further down on the deck and huddled by a shapeless mass that Zuko recognized as their employer the closer he got. 

“What happened?” He yelled over the rain, squinting for a view.

“Twisted my fucking ankle!” The Fisherman boomed.

“What can we do?” Sokka asked, voice nearly swallowed by the winds. 

“Hope for a fucking miracle!” The Fisherman shouted.

“No! There’s got to be something we ca-WHAT IS THAT?”

Sokka gawked at the sky, dropping his hold on the Fisherman’s shoulder, letting the man drop with a _thunk._

Zuko followed his gaze, seeing nothing but rain and clouds. 

But then-

Another crack of lightning cast the sky aglow and he could see it, a shadow moving tangentially in the storm clouds, sneaking through them, almost serpentine.

Like a dragon. 

He blinked and it was gone, the clouds molding back into normal, shapeless blobs. 

_What the fuck?_

“OH!” Sokka screamed again, but this time it was in relief as he waved fervently at the sky. 

And there it was: their fucking miracle. 

The Avatar’s bison flew closer, flown by a set and determined Aang.

“Here! Help me tie the rope!” Sokka called out, scrambling for one of the many spare ropes piled along the deck.

Zuko took the other end, easing the weight of it while Sokka tied it around the old man’s waist, then his, until finally tying it haphazardly around himself. 

“Aang! Catch!” Sokka threw the rope upwards and by some fucking chance Aang grabbed onto it, he and Katara tying it off on the bison’s saddle. Then they were airborne, arching over the saddle. The Fisherman landed clean, groaning out as his ankle hit the floor. Zuko also landed in the saddle, closer to the edge than he would’ve liked, but Sokka-

Sokka was falling back, his share of the rope having snapped off. Zuko flung his arm out instantly, but he only managed to brush Sokka’s fingertips as he fell, crashing into the raging ocean below.

“Sokka!” Katara shrieked from somewhere behind him. Truthfully, he didn’t register very much after that, all he knew was tugging at the rope around his waist until he was free and jumping off the bison, not even considering a safer course of action. 

His splash into the ocean was cold and stung on impact, but just as soon as he hit water he was being thrust back by the violent waves. 

_Fuck, this was a terrible idea._

All of his senses were overwhelmed by the thrashing ocean around him, and he realized then he might actually die. He’d just fallen to his death, and for what? It’s not like he would’ve actually been able to save Sokka. 

Zuko emerged from below the water once more, gasping and opening his eyes to see only the peaking of a massive wave, an assurance of his immediate demise. 

Everything was dark below the water. 

Dark, and impossibly quiet.

But then, just as impossibly, everything was blue, held in a space of security, and he considered then that they might live.

…

“You owe that young boy your life!” 

Zuko didn’t pity Aang one bit, caught between the Fisherman and the old woman he’d been arguing with that morning. 

Apparently, she was the Fisherman’s wife, who came searching for Aang when the storm kicked up, more than likely saving them all with her persistence. Still, as they all stood soaking wet in a cave and watching the old couple squabble over whether Aang deserved thanks or not, Zuko began to wish he was still under water, at least that it had been _quiet._

He was also trying to push down the shame he felt, standing next to Sokka and knowing that he _knew._ That he had a piece of Zuko's past that no one was ever meant to have. But there was something Sokka had said, beyond the yelling and accusation, something Zuko wanted to know, consequence be damned.

“You know,” he whispered to Sokka, desperate for a distraction, “You never told me what you thought.”

Sokka looked over to him, left eyebrow popped and questioning. 

“You said, ‘I think-,’ and never finished the thought.”

Zuko faltered a bit. Maybe he was being too obscure, after everything that had just happened it was crazy of him to think Sokka would remember something so insignificant. 

“Oh,” he finally said, “Right.”

Sokka shifted, and Zuko considered telling him to just forget it, but then:

“I was gonna say that I think you should stay-, stick! I think you should _stick_ with us. I know it’s your choice to make but I-, I think you should.”

_Oh._

Zuko didn’t say anything, he didn’t know if he could. He opened his mouth, wanting to try-

But then Aang was back and cheery and the Fisherman was debating whether he actually had to pay Zuko and Sokka anything given the boat, and consequently their labor, had been decimated, sparking a new argument with Sokka and his wife. 

All the while, as the excitement died down and they set up camp right inside the cave, Zuko replayed Sokka’s words over and over until they stuck like a brand on his mind. 

_“I think you should stay.”_

Until his debt was paid, that had been the plan.

It was becoming a _dangerous thing_ , being in the Avatar and his friend’s company. He truly didn’t know how much longer he could push excuses. He needed to leave, because there wasn’t anything for him here, right? He ought to be searching for Uncle, right? He ought to yearn for home the way he had every single day for the last few years, right?

He ought to do anything other than crash into his own exhaustion, resting beside three kids he had no business traveling with.

Still, it was nice to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *nervous.* 😓
> 
> please don't hate me! the reveal was never gonna be a one-off hug fest, i don't roll that way! it was always gonna take a little time and feature a few missteps. 
> 
> Ch.7 will be much kinder to your hearts than the last few, I promise!  
> 
> 
> I have things to say so stick around if you'd like to read them:
> 
> 1) The A:TLA timeline is WHACK. I speant a good 2 hours mapping it all out and like. Wow. 
> 
> 2) I'll be going back to clean up chapters 1-5 (maybe this one too), mostly for continuity errors that I can't let slide anymore and maybe to fill certain scenes that I felt were too empty. You won't have to re-read them, nothing is changing plot wise. But yeah, the re-edited versions will be up with Chapter 7.
> 
> 3) I'll be honest, I never expected to get this far into the story. I'm the kind of person who gets wrapped up on ideas and writes maybe 2,000 words maximum before moving on. But now I'm well over 30,000 words deep and I'm so excited to write more, it's just a little daunting. I'm a slow writer, and I'm so sorry for how long it takes me to update, but I'm trying. I posted the first chapter in a sleep deprived state, desperate to get it out there, and now that it is I'm gonna reign in a little bit so I can make this story cohesive. I want it to be something good to read, and I want to feel like its worth being read. So updates will probably still be spaced apart, I hope you'll stick around.
> 
> 4) All THAT said, I need time to plan. I meant what I said when I said this would be a *long* ass fic. So the updates will keep being a bit slower, but I assure you, they'll be better. 
> 
> 5) Since we're all here saying things guess I'll add that I'm not a fan of the comics and their canon will not be upheld in this au.
> 
> Hope you had fun, and I hope I'll see you here again.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Paid In Full By The Blue Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Oof. Sorry for that gap, my life got a little crazy. I really can't keep this in my drive any longer, so I'm putting this out at 3 am after a final read through. I.e. there may be some silly mistakes. But you know my motto: it's just spice.
> 
> Also if you saw me referring to the season they're in as autumn...shhh no you didn't 😌  
> (Seriously though my bad, I fixed it).
> 
> See you at the end.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“I thought it was supposed to be the dry season!”

Zuko glanced up from his designated staring spot to catch Katara’s dismay at the light drizzle that had begun outside the ruins they’d settled in.

“What are you _on_ about? I’m completely dry!” Sokka offered, voice breathy in an exceptionally annoying display of his delirium. 

Sokka patted around the top of his sleeping bag for emphasis, which would have been a hilarious sight, if not for the fact that Sokka had felt the need to do it every fifteen seconds, with varying reason, for the last _hour_.

Even from where he sat, body angled away from the others, Zuko could see Katara’s entire frame expand with a grounding breath inwards.

“I think we’re just caught in a storm cycle,” Aang said, joining Katara where she stood to watch the worsening weather outside their little camp, “We need to leave the area soon anyway. This time tomorrow night we’ll be seeing the stars!”

“Leave? Why? We _just_ moved here!” Sokka cried, eyes going dopey and wide, snot dripping from his nose. 

Zuko bit back a gag while Katara audibly scoffed,

“ _Spirits_! Sokka, wipe your nose.” She scolded.

Her brother gaped at her, swiping at his face and pulling away. Sokka tilted his head in that way he always did when he was thinking.

_Oh dear fuck, tell me he’s not observing it._

Sokka’s mouth went even wider, “Katara! I’m leaking! Oh shit! What am I gonna _do_?” Sokka sounded so genuine and childlike, it made Zuko want to ram his head into one of the many crumbling stone walls around them.

_He is so annoying._

Katara sighed and moved back to where Sokka was set up against the bison, pressing a gentle hand to his forehead. She used her own coat sleeve to wipe at the mix of spit and mucus Sokka had missed; a truly selfless (and truly disgusting) act that made Zuko cringe.

“Your fever is getting worse.” She muttered, opting to rub her newly soiled sleeve on the side of Sokka’s sleeping bag.

“Or maybe it’s getting _better_ ,” Sokka argued, “Fever’s are _supposed_ to be high. I’m _winning_.”

Katara failed to hide her amused smile while Aang chuckled.

_It’s not funny._

Zuko grimaced as a sharp pain pulled him from the moment. He'd been sporting a bitch of a headache since waking up, and whether it was from dehydration, stress, or general pain, was anyone's guess. 

Additionally, the seam where his scar met his cheek had decided to flare up, angry and irritated. The stupid thing hadn't been treated in nine days, and, if he was honest, it hasn't been _properly_ attended to since he'd spotted Aang at the South Pole two and half months ago.

_Whatever. It's your dumb fault it got so bad. Deal with it._

By whatever luck, silence descended upon them again. And while the lack of distraction meant he had to deal with his own thinking, it also meant no one in his present company was speaking, which was always a blessing.

Until of course, Aang decided silence was no longer necessary and stood, retrieving a scroll from one of their bags. 

He laid it away from where Zuko could get a good look at it, and began to asses, “It looks like we’ve settled in the ruins of Taku,” Aang paused, shoulders tensing, “This is Taku?”

“What’s that?” Katara asked, pressing a rag to Sokka’s forehead while he mumbled indiscernibly. 

“Uhm, a city, I think? I’m not sure. I just remember one of my tutors complaining about its restrictions on plum trading.”

“Plum trading?”

Aang shrugged, “I think so. Anyways, here it says we’re in Taku, so there should be a settlement here somewhere, I just can’t quite tell the directions-,”

Hold the fuck up. 

_Is that a map?_

He held his breath as Katara slipped off her spot on the bison to gaze at the document Aang was pouring over, craning his own neck as if that would miraculously make Aang transparent.

“Ah, this is a local map, so it'll be North-based. You’re probably used to maps being Southern formal, so just invert what you would usually assume the directions to be.”

_It is a map!_

This changed things considerably. Zuko hadn’t known they had a map. 

“Oh! You’re right Katara. Okay, looks like there’s an herbalist just east of here. Maybe I can find some medicine.”

Katara hummed, hunching over the map, “Maybe. We can head out in the morning, I don’t think Sokka’s ready to go anywhere tonight.”

 _That_ was an understatement.

Sokka had somehow gotten even more pathetic in the last few minutes, sniffling while he spoke softly to the bison, laughing intermittently as if the thing was actually responding. 

“Spirits, Appa. You’re hilarious.” Sokka crooned.

Aang leveled a sympathetic look at Katara,“That’s for certain. But I think I want to head out now.”

Katara shook her head, “What? Aang, no. The weather is still horrible, what if you get hurt, or-,”

“I’ll be fine,” he interjected, rolling up the map and standing, “But who knows what’ll happen if we just let Sokka be without any care.”

Katara glanced back at her brother, face tight with worry, 

“You’re right. I just don’t like the idea of you out there all alone. Y-you don’t _have_ to be alone.” She rushed the last end of that sentence, suggesting there was more to the assertion, which only mildly piqued Zuko’s interest before he was back to glowering at nothing in particular. 

“I know, Katara. But I don’t want you getting sick, too.”

_Ugh, they’re so considerate. Fucking obnoxious._

“I’m completely fine,” Katara said, contradicting herself almost immediately with a small fit of coughing. 

“Oh no! I knew it, you are sick!” Aang cried.

“I am not, it’s a small cough.”

“That’s exactly how Sokka was yesterday, and now he’s all, well, _weird_!”

They all turned to the boy in question, who was staring up at the roof of their camp, smiling impossibly wide. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Katara conceded.

Aang wasted no time, snapping his glider open, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

…

The rain stopped it’s trickle the minute Aang left, allowing a new, and far more uncomfortable, silence to settle in the damp air. Sokka had long since fallen asleep, breath coming in shallow and stilted.

“I’m sorry about your hair," Katara said, shattering their precarious peace.

_What?_

Katara was staring at him, or rather, the top of his head, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Uh, Okay.” 

She bit at her lip, “I know it happened like a week ago but, uhm. I am sorry that it...happened.”

“Well. I, uh, I’m sorry about your necklace,” he said, voice strained and painfully awkward. 

“My-, oh. Yeah.” She rubbed at the hollow of her neck.

A few seconds passed in stilted quiet before Katara broke it again. 

“I actually kind of wanted to talk about, uhm, Jet and well, what _happened_ with...you, but. I guess there weren’t many opportunities.”

“Oh.”

_Why would she want to talk to me about Jet?_

“Because I just wanted to,” she took a breath, rubbing at her neck again, “Look, I know he kind of uhm, lost it, but-,”

Her face scrunched up, clearly struggling to word her statement. 

Zuko tried to give her an out, they really _didn’t_ have to talk to one another, 

“It’s-”

“Please don’t go after them!” She interrupted, voice pitching up.

_Huh?_

“It’s just, I know you’re planning on leaving.”

His right eye blew wide, _what the fuck-_

“I saw you looking at our map. And, well. You haven’t unpacked your bag,” she pointed the the sack that lay beside him, sealed and untouched, “And, when you leave, I imagine you’ll find that ship of yours and it’s just, I know he wronged you, but I’ve seen what your little army can do and I just-, they’re just kids.”

Oh.

She-, she was asking him not to-, _oh._

“I wasn’t going to go after them.” He managed.

She let out a breath, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

That was true, he had opted to more or less forget the Freedom Fighters. What Jet had done was no small thing in his mind, but after maiming and banishment, it wasn’t even close to his most humbling experience. Even if it had wounded his pride for a moment there.

“Okay. Then, uhm. Good. Okay.” She settled back.

“But you are leaving?” She asked a second later, the edge gone from her voice.

Huh. So there it was. The chance to leave presented to him on a silver platter. For once the thoughts that screamed at him to get the fuck away from the Avatar and his friends took the forefront, unleashed after days upon days of being shoved away.

_But my debt-_

Paled in comparison to the feasible reality of reuniting with his Uncle, and of letting his survival be known.

“Yeah. I guess.”

She nodded.

Zuko scrambled to grab his bag, certain that if he thought any longer than ten seconds he’d talk himself out of this.

“Wait.” Katara’s voice was soft behind him.

She coughed before explaining, “Take the map.”

…

_This is the right thing to do._

Making it out of the ruins and into the greater expanse of forest was easy enough, and when he felt he was far enough away he dumped the contents of his bag and started downsizing. 

He opted to change into a neutral set of clothes, and secured his broadswords to his back. (It felt indescribably wonderful to be out of the Earth Kingdom rags they’d given him and into actually well made fabric). After brief contemplation, he slipped the Pai Sho tile into his belt, but left the scrolls behind. 

If Jet’s reaction had been any indication, traveling alone in the Earth Kingdom being who he was was a terrible idea, so he made sure to tie the mask around his head. 

_This is the right thing to do._

Free of their camp, he was honestly dumbfounded at how long he’d been pushing excuses to stay. Leaving had been so _easy_. And what did he care about honoring a debt with his rivals? It’s not like he had much honor anyway.

_This is the right thing to do._

A tremor of excitement quickly quelled into anxiety when he realized he had no clue what to do from there.

_Go left? Right? Where would Uncle even be? How do I get to him?_

Zuko sighed, he hadn’t exactly given this much thought outside of, _‘get the fuck out,'_ and was now beginning to realize that perhaps _impulse_ and _action_ ought to be kept separate. 

The sky had darkened overhead, making the wind blow cold. He shivered, setting a faster pace. If he could just get out of the path of the churning storm, he could re-evaluate the map Katara had let him take, and sort it out from there. 

Something snapped beneath his foot as he stepped forward, reverberating dully as a _thawk_ on his ankle. 

“Ow!” He cried out, stumbling back. 

A wooden stick lay before him in halves, one part stuck in the dirt, the other beside his foot.

The longer he looked at the halves the more apparent it became that this was no ordinary twig. Zuko pulled at the half stuck in the ground, retrieving it with very little give.

It was an arrow.

_Huh?_

He picked up the offending half too, gently pressing the snapped ends together. It was, in fact, an arrow. And a very well made one at that. 

_Weird._

He crept forward, scanning the area with trepidation. A little ways off he found another one, then another, and another, and more and more until he broke into a clearing.

There were even more arrows littering the wispy blades of grass. The placement of each arrow was scattered and messy, more than likely caught on the wind. They were identical, but the sheer amount of them assured they must have come from more than one archer. 

A deep discontent settled in his stomach. 

_What happened?_

He grabbed for one of them, studying it intently, desperate to understand the situation at hand.

It was, as he’d previously observed, well made. The arrowhead was iron, tipped deadly and sharp, the body of the arrow smooth and lacquered. He brushed his finger lightly over the fletching, reveling in the soft feather-like material that it consisted of.

Staring at that arrow, he felt a wave of something almost like remembrance. Something he'd talked about before...he scrunched his face, trying to force the memory to surface, but it slipped away the longer he tried. 

_Whatever._

An unease drifted in the silence while the wind picked up again. Zuko felt his skin prick up at the onslaught of harsh breeze, but more than that, he felt... _watched._

_Get out of here._

He made it out of the clearing, choosing to ignore the arrows where they lay, still shocked at the sheer amount of them splayed along the ground.

Off a way was the muffled sound of water, and Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. If you followed water long enough, you'd find a settlement. Years of hearing Azula marvel at how much they truly relied on water had taught him that. 

That's when things got weirder.

He only noticed it when he looked back to the sky, disappointed to see the clouds were on the verge of breaking again, only this time it didn't seem likely to stop at a mere drizzle. He let his gaze fall from the sky, stopping abruptly at the sight of two trees, leaves bent and blown by a powerful blast of wind. 

One problem though.

The leaves were bent in the _opposite_ direction the wind was currently blowing.

 _Strange_.

Zuko gave it all of three seconds of thought before moving forward. The arrows were back, leading out from the forest. 

_This can’t be good._

When he broke the tree-line he was faced with the stream he’d heard earlier. He was caught so off guard he nearly fell into it, stumbling backwards and tripping over another fucking arrow.

_Okay. Ow._

He regained his bearings and stood, kicking the stray arrow. And then he saw it:

the stream was frozen.

_What?_

A patch of ice, maybe five feet long, stretched across the stream, swallowing the water below into a smothered gurgle. 

That’s not what got his attention, though. 

No, that was reserved for the frozen log jutting out in the center of the stream, proudly displaying more than dozen arrows through its body. 

_Aang._

It had to have been Aang, right? 

_Fuck._

All those arrows…

Fuck, why couldn’t he remeber how he knew those arrows? What had happened to Aang?

He palmed at his forehead, willing his brain to work for once in his fucking life. 

And then it came.

…

_“The Yuyan archers aren’t dumb.” Mai says indignantly._

_Azula laughs from where she’s perched above them on the bench of the fountain, leaning back into Ty Lee, who pushes her off playfully._

_“I didn’t say_ they _were dumb. I said_ you _were dumb for thinking you’ll ever be one. You’re nobility, Mai.”_

_Zuko watches Mai’s brow furrow,_

_“Whatever.” She mutters._

_“Shut up, Azula,” he says, then turns to Mai, who’s focused her gaze to the grass below them, “I thought it was cool. What else do you know about them?”_

_The look Mai gives him is impassive as she sighs, but it’s one of her happy sighs, so he knows he hasn’t said anything wrong._

_“Not a_ ton _, I only read the scroll once in my father’s office. But, their arrows are special. The fletching, that’s the bit at the end, is made of male hawk feathers, cut so sharp you could slice a finger on them. They’re a bright orange, or maybe it was red-,”_

_“Orange-red? Or ‘rorange’! O-ed?” Ty Lee offers._

_“Sure. You could see them in the dark they’re so bright. I think they dip them in a dye. I don’t know that for certain-,”_

_She’s cut off by a loud yawn from Azula._

_“Oh, sorry. Are you still going on about it?”_

_For the smallest of moments, Mai looks hurt. Then she’s back to impassive, “No. I guess I’m done.”_

…

_The Yuyan Archers._

Which meant—

He grabbed for the map tucked between his scabbard and back, yanking it open harshly. 

_Fuck._

It was easy enough to read, but it was a localized map, spanning over the ruins of Taku and a little off the coast, identifying _nothing_ beyond that.

_It’s completely useless._

“Ugh!”

He chucked the map into the stream, overwhelmed with disappointment. 

_That was probably a bad idea._

_Breathe._

The deep breathing grounded him, and his mind cleared. Unfortunately, there was no way to double check, but he vaguely remembered the Yuyan archers were trained and housed at a military Stronghold. Po...Puh…

_Pohuai._

That was it. If Aang had been captured, that’s where he’d be.

A stupid, thoughtless, reckless, and all together impossible, plan entered his mind.

_Keep moving._

If Aang _was_ taken to Pohuai, if someone else got the credit for the Avatar’s capture…

He stared off past the frozen log where the trees were whistling and the sky shifted restlessly. It would be easy to cross the stream, continue further into the Earth Kingdom and search for his Uncle.

But if he did that, he’d never be welcomed home.

He really couldn’t catch a break.

_Fuck it._

…

Finding Pohuai was not a difficult task. He just followed the arrows backwards and once those ran out, he did his best to walk in a straight line until he came across a road.

The path was beaten, but sturdy, and even in the dying light of the day he could see faint wheel tracks. He followed it from the tree-line, mind racing a mile a minute at what exactly he was going to do. 

Something grew upon the horizon, leering over the trees, so he crouched behind shrubbery, catching his breath behind his mask. 

_What the fuck am I thinking?_

Truthfully, he _wasn’t_ thinking. Not much. But, if he was about to attempt, and achieve, a serious infiltration of a military stronghold, he’d better fucking start.

Zuko poked out from his place in the bushes, and felt his stomach drop.

The Pohuai Stronghold was... _big._

And for added theatrics, the damn thing was set against a jagged mountain range, emanating menace.

_Fuck._

Okay, okay. 

This would be fine. A challenge? Absolutely. Impossible? Maybe. 

There was no way to determine the quirks of the stronghold from where he was, just that there was a large gate set into the outer wall and a dirt path leading up to that gate. 

_Super._

Night would have to fall for him to begin the process, which gave him at least two hours to overthink _everything._

He sighed and settled behind the bush, mind slipping inexplicably to Sokka.

They'd been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours, it wasn't _so_ weird for his mind to wander in that direction.

Shame was the most prominent emotion he felt, thinking about what Sokka _knew_. Not just about his past, but the ways it had damaged him physically. He thought of the last words they’d exchanged.

_"I think you should stay."_

Why?

_Why would he say that?_

He already knew the Avatar and his friends were unbearably kind and good humored, but he'd always found Sokka the closest to normal. And then he'd gone and said _that._

It was an utterly ridiculous sentiment. Sokka had once said keeping him around was a tactical decision, and surely that’s all it was now. But, _still_ , his stupid brain held onto those words like they meant something. 

_But I left anyway._

“Stupid.” He muttered, sinking further to the grassy floor beneath him. Leaving was the best option, he’d just been too confused earlier to admit it. He was only here now, saving Aang, in hopes that someday _he’d_ be the one to capture him. It was completely selfish.

_Completely._

…

A buzz of anticipation shot through him, the light patter of rain consuming his senses.

And oh, yeah, he was covered in mud. 

Or rather, _submerged._

The idea had come rather quickly after he decided sitting around and thinking was just asking way too much of himself. Hopefully, if a cart came along at any point, he could latch onto the underpinnings and be carried into Pohuai inconspicuously.

Okay, that plan had seemed a lot fucking smarter an hour ago.

Now he was stuck in sludge, the wet of it seeping into his clothes. He felt disgusting and stupid for thinking anything about this idea made sense.

Then he heard the rattle. 

A cart was coming up the road at a lazy pace. He’d only have one chance to get it right, but he did…

Zuko waited until it felt like he was drowning under the sound and pushed up, grabbing hold of something wooden.

_Oh, thank fuck._

He bit back the discomfort as he struggled to get a hold with his feet, nearly crying out in pain as they were dragged impossibly fast along the dirt road.

By some miracle he was able to get a snail-sloth hold on the underpinnings. 

The position he was in made taking a deep breath impossible, but eventually his heartbeat slowed without one.

He was actually starting to think it might all work out when the cart was stopped. 

_Fuck._

Somewhere above him he heard terse grumblings between the driver and a guard. The crunch of feet moving around the cart forced his hand, and with all the abdominal strength he could muster he moved from beneath the cart, slipping under one of the many tarps that adorned it.

A moment of deafening silence passed and he was certain he’d be discovered. 

_One._

_Two._

_Three…_

But then the cart was moving forward, and the Main Gate was screeching open.

_I just breached a military stronghold._

He did his best to catch his breath from the previous feat of exertion.

_I just breached a fucking military stronghold to rescue the Avatar._

A strangled laugh escaped him.

…

Leaving the cart wasn’t too complicated, enough commotion was drawn in their opposite direction that he made his exit easily. 

He was hiding out behind a pile of crates, trying desperately to gain his bearings. Aang would no doubt be taken to the central tower. As the most valued prisoner of war in the entire world, Zuko knew no expense would be spared to keep him confined. 

So, to save Aang he’d have to get to the central tower, and there was only one thing he could think of that would connect every structure together in a seamless line.

 _The sewers._

…

The sewers were disgusting, which wasn’t a surprise, but confronting the inevitable reality of what he was doing sucked in any variation he had to do it, and this was no different. Plus, it smelled like shit. 

Every yard or so a grate broke the darkness of the sewer system, bathing the metal structure in a limited square of barred light, allowing him to gauge where he was in relation to the tower. Once the light creeping through the grates became a harsh orange instead of a pale white, he knew he’d made it in.

_Fuck yeah._

...

The corridor Zuko rose into was poorly lit, narrow and dead-ending behind him. 

He inched along a wall, careful to step light and quick. The walls bled together like a maze, and each corridor looked identical to the next. A few empty stairwells led him up the tower, but no matter how high he climbed, the structure seemed to have no end.

_How the fuck am I supposed to find Aang?_

Footsteps echoed further off into the hall he’d just stepped into.

_Shit._

He leapt back against a wall, trying to steady his breath, hoping it wasn’t as loud outside the mask as it was inside. 

“Write to the Fire Lord at once, tell him I’ve succeeded in capturing the Avatar and-,”

Whatever the man was going to say was drowned out by Zuko’s own fury when he recognized the voice. 

_Zhao._

Because of _course_ Zhao was here, and of _course_ it was him taking credit for Aang’s capture. 

“Yes, Admiral-,”

_Admiral? They made that idiot an Admiral?_

Not for the first time he questioned his father’s sanity, and for once there was no voice in the back of his head scolding him for doing so. 

_An Admiral?_

He pictured Zhao’s ugly face, spitting out orders and leering over the navy men of their Nation.

_That’s an embarrassing decision._

“Send your report to my quarters for review, I’ll be back within the hour. I have a crowd to attend.”

Zuko could have gagged at the pompous tone Zhao assumed, and could almost imagine the man preening under his own ego.

_Wait. His quarters?_

Nevermind the reason Zuko was here for, the opportunity to snoop on that insufferable fool was too great to pass up. Besides, maybe Zhao was keeping Aang near his quarters. 

_If anything, I’m being productive, not selfish._

Okay, maybe a little selfish.

…

Following behind the scribe Zhao had been speaking with was easy. The man’s every attention was raptured by a sheet of paper in his hands.

The crowd Zhao boasted of attending must've been legitimate, for not once along his journey did they run into another person. In fact, Zuko got so used to walking freely he nearly forgot to duck out of sight as the scribe stopped before a door. 

He was in there for a second before stepping out again, muttering about how he _‘wasn’t a common fucking servant.’_

Zuko waited for the man’s footsteps to disappear before creeping out from the pillar he’d hidden behind. He took a final look around the space and slipped into Zhao’s quarters without a sound.

…

The room he entered was impersonal, obviously a very temporary place of rest. 

Zuko beelined to a small bedside table, eager to poke through every crevice of that awful man’s room, secretly hoping to find something he could taunt Zhao with should he ever again come across his miserable path. 

Several jars and bottles were lined on the table, but only one caught his eye. It was a stout jar, resting atop a wad of gauze. Uncapping it unleashed the sugary smell of honey, overpowering the other, far less pleasant, odors within. 

_What does Zhao need with a medical-grade burn salve?_

Well, it was his now.

Zuko placed the jar in the band of his belt, fighting the urge to unmask and spread a layer of the salve over his flakey scar. 

After inspecting various bottles, all of which turned out to be some form of liquor, the bedside table was proving to be rather boring. He picked up one more vial. It was smaller than the rest, made of crystal. 

_Looks expensive._

He pocketed the vial and moved on, turning to pick at the desk in the corner of the room. Letters and maps were scattered across the surface, an inkpot perched dangerously on the edge of the desk. One of the items caught his attention, a scroll placed off to the side. He recognized the paper, thinly pressed and ornate with gold. It was royal stationary. 

_This was sent from home._

He tore it open, eyes flitting across the characters, and smile falling as he registered its contents.

_‘As of this, the tenth day of the second month of winter, it is in the interest of the Fire Nation and their Lord that Commander Zhao take full command of the Avatar’s capture.’_

Time stopped.

He read it again. 

Then again.

Once more. 

Soon enough the words had imprinted themselves on his mind. 

Soft ash fell through his fingers as the scroll burnt away. 

_What the fuck?_

Mad would be a kind way of describing how he felt in that moment. ‘Hurt’ would also be putting it lightly. Somewhere in the mess was confusion, and the wave of nausea he felt nearly triumphed over all of it. 

_Did I fail?_

_Is that what this is? Because I failed?_

The tenth day of the second month. That’s when the command had been issued. Eleven days _before_ his ‘death’ in the Fire Sage’s temple. 

_It’s my fault._

_Because Aang escaped that first time._

_I failed._

_I failed._

He felt his chest constrict-

_Father gave up on me._

Maybe in any other circumstance he would’ve reacted with fire. Decimated the room he stood in and relished in the small bout of reckless anger. But this was too much, and there was still so much more to do, and he didn’t know if he could do it. 

The scrolls and letters racoused beneath his hands as he gripped the desk, trying to think of what to do next. He focused on the inkwell, swatting it off the edge of the desk.

_Maybe he never wanted me to succeed._

The traitorous thought came to his forefront, the dam he’d built to keep it at bay breaking as he held the desk tighter. 

He’d done _everything_ in the last two and half years for the hope that one day he’d capture the Avatar and go home, or die trying. The isolation, the hatred, the anger, the fear, the violence, the scar...for what, exactly? For _Zhao_ to be put on _his_ mission at the will of his father?

_“You always make everything so personal.”_

“Shut up, Azula.” He startled to realize he’d said that out loud, but the last thing he needed was his sister’s words prattling around in his head. 

_Is that what I’m doing now?_

All consideration was stopped when he heard the sharp clatter of a metal tray.

“Oh!”

A boy, no older than him, stood in the doorway, a tea tray at his feet and eyes bugging from their sockets. 

_Fuck._

Zuko moved swiftly, tripping the boy with his own tray and shoving him into the nearest wall, holding his left blade to the boy’s neck.

_Now what?_

There was only one thing he could think to do: _keep moving._

“Take me to the Avatar,” he said, leveling his voice as best he could. It sounded foreign to his ears, low and measured, in direct contrast with the burning rage and fear still coursing through him.

The boy gulped, neck twitching against the blade, but eventually he nodded.

_Here we go._

…

“Th-The Avatar is being kept down that hall, and to the left.” The boy confirmed timidly, shaking a little as they stood before the hall in question. 

_Excellent._

All he had to do now was take out some guards, get Aang out through the sewers, and get the hell out of there. 

_Easy enough._

But, there could be no collateral. He came here to escape with Aang and that’s what he was going to do. 

Zuko hit the boy with the hilt of his right blade, feeling mildly guilty for the headache the poor kid would awake with, and hid his body behind a pillar. 

_Sorry._

...

Zuko had managed to hold himself aloft on chains that ran from the pillars to the ceiling. He wondered what they where for. Probably an aged-out mechanism for...something. 

_Maybe Sokka would know._

He frowned at that thought, _no he wouldn’t. Shut up._

...

The first guard came unwittingly, sauntering down the hallway with an airy whistle. When the man passed below him, he dropped down, satisfied at his silent landing. 

It would be easy enough to knock the guard out and be done with it, but after his expedition into Zhao’s quarters, he wanted to have some fun. Besides, the commotion of a fight would only lure out the other guards before he was ready, and that alone made Zuko’s plan _tactical_ instead of _petty._

The man’s shoulders went taut when he felt something brush across them, and he whipped around, eyes squinted with suspicion. 

Said eyes went wide as he tried to comprehend what stood before him, and Zuko was sure the mask was doing wonders for the theatrics of it all. 

Sure as he’d hoped, the man threw fire, blasting uncontrolled and hapless. Zuko dodged the flames easily, recognizing the stiff and common bending forms the man utilized.

When he heard the patter of more footsteps from the hall that supposedly led to Aang, he stopped toying with the man, striking him down with a quick _thunk_ of his sword’s aligned hilts.

Two more soldiers came barreling down the hall, throwing fire like squabbling children. In a truly inspired move, Zuko maneuvered around the men, stringing them with loose chains and reeling them up the ceiling. 

They hung like fish. 

The last man to come was timid, his spear appearing before he did, trembling up and down.

Sure enough, the man who emerged was paralyzed, clearly trying to work out how exactly his fellow guards had been chained to the ceiling. 

Zuko rounded a kick to the man’s head with slight flourish, breath echoing to a crescendo behind his mask.

_Damn._

Rounding the corner, he found just one more soldier, visibly shaking with nerves.

“S-stand back!” The man cried, preparing to strike.

Zuko spotted a bucket of water a ways down the hall, wondering briefly if it was meant to hydrate Aang. He took it in hand and before the man’s fire could grow any larger than a plume he tossed the bucket, dousing the flame in water.

The man sped off without another word.

_Well that’s not ideal._

Zuko shook himself, focusing on the door. 

Shockingly, it opened without any resistance, and there, in the dim light of a barren room, was Aang. 

The poor boy was held by his wrists and ankles with chains, head hung low.

_Is this their plan? To chain him up and leave him?_

Aang looked up to the sound of the door closing, eyes widening as he took Zuko in.

“Who are you?” Aang asked, tensing as much as his confines would allow.

_Should I tell him?_

_No_. He amended to just get Aang out, then tell him. 

Zuko drew both broadswords, rushing towards Aang with strict determination.

“No, no, wait!”

Aang let out a yelp as the blades sliced through his metal chains. He opened his eyes tentatively, and when he realized the chains had been removed he gasped, 

“Are you here to help me escape?”

_Uh, duh._

But Zuko bit his tongue and opened the door, tilting his head as indication for Aang to follow. 

They had to move quickly. His failure to knock the last guard out meant they were racing against time, and if enough people were notified they’d need to find a way out that didn’t involve walking down several public corridors. 

_Fuck._

He chose to walk straight down the hall, hoping Aang wouldn’t notice his previous handiwork just around the first corner. 

Eventually the hall curved right, and he found they were in a narrower passage, much like the one he’d entered the tower from. 

_This might actually work._

Zuko turned around to cue Aang in, but when he did all he saw was an empty space. 

_Son of a bitch._

He heard Aang crying out, a desperate and irritated sound. Reluctant and annoyed, he trailed back to find Aang crouched over a doorway, arm reaching out to grab half-frozen frogs. 

They were escaping a military stronghold and Aang was trying to round up frogs.

_Sure._

Decisively, Zuko grabbed Aang by his collar and started dragging him back to the sequestered passage.

“Please wait, I need to get those frogs. My friends have to suck on them!”

That statement punched Zuko right in the gut, and before he could stop himself he was speaking, 

“Why do Sokka and Katara need to suck on frogs?”

Aang’s eyebrows went sky high, mouth open in shock.

“Zuko?” He shouted, earning a hand clamped to his mouth and a shove in the direction they needed to go.

“Wanna clue in the entire base on where, and who, we are?” Zuko said through gritted teeth. 

Aang shook his head, so Zuko removed his hand and sighed.

_This is not going the right way at fucking all._

“What are you doing here?” Aang asked, punctuating his whisper with enough spit to render the gesture useless. 

“Just stopping by.” He replied icily, eyeing the passageway for a grate.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

_No kidding._

The grate he was searching for wasn’t below them, but above. 

_Must be attached to a separate system of pipes and tunnels._

“Okay, see that metal grate-,”

“On it!” Aang slammed his staff downwards, ripping the metal grate from its hinges with a blast of air.

“Uh, great,” he held his hands out to give Aang a boost up, “Just-,”

But the moment he understood, Aang was up, brushing off Zuko’s offer with his own competency.

_Show off._

…

Once in the pipes, it became harder to focus. They were more or less submerged in total darkness, forced to crawl along aimlessly as neither knew where the pipes would lead. 

“So, what’s with the mask?” Aang asked after a while.

“What?”

Aang chuckled behind him, “The mask you're wearing right now. I _know_ your face doesn’t look like that,” he paused, “ _Unless_ , you’re a spirit who somehow managed to steal the voice and identity of the angry teenager we’ve been traveling with for the last week and a half.”

_Excuse me?_

“What, no, I-,” he took a grounding breath, “I found it on the Pirate's ship.”

“Cool!”

A beat of silence passed before Aang opened his mouth again.

“Any reason in particular you chose the Blue Spirit’s mask?”

Zuko stopped for a second, his brain needing a second to process that.

“How did you know?”

“I’m an old man of _culture_ , I’ll have you know,” Aang said with mock offense, “Besides, who hasn’t seen _Love Amongst The Dragons_ at least once? Kuzon loves that silly play.”

 _Who?_ _Oh, whatever._

Zuko grit his teeth and rushed his response on impulse, “A true man of culture would know damn well the Blue Spirit in _Love Amongst The Dragons_ is total mockery of the iconic Earth Kingdom character created some thousand years ago.”

All he could hear after that was Aang trying not to laugh, and failing spectacularly at hiding it.

“What?” He snapped. 

“Nothing,” Aang wheezed, “You just seem _super_ passionate about theatre.” 

Zuko took a deep breath and continued crawling, wondering if it was too late to give up and duck out.

…

_Surely the pipe has to end at some point, right?_

In fact, it did. Just not the way he necessarily wanted it to. 

One moment they were crawling along, and the next they were free falling through a rickety shoot and landing in something soft. Aang landed unceremoniously on top of him, sending the air out of Zuko's lungs with a _thump._

“Ow.” He managed to scrape out. 

“Sorry,” Aang whispered, getting off him in one swift movement, “Hey! We made it outside.”

When he looked up, it was to the dark night sky, blessedly confirming Aang’s statement. 

One problem, though.

They’d made their landing through a dispensing shoot, right into the feeding bucket of a slaughter pen. 

Zuko looked out into the yard, packed thick with moo-sows. 

“Petting zoo?” Aang asked, his voice hitching in a way that indicated he knew full well they hadn’t landed in a petting zoo. 

“Come on.” Zuko urged, extracting himself from the feeding bucket.

They crawled through the cluster of animals, stopping only once to mutually gag at the smells they were facing. The squelch of mud was no help to the gross out factor, and more than once he had to restrain himself from dry heaving. 

At last, he saw something promising. A rope was hung off a ways from the pen, leading straight up the inner wall.

_This is it._

He let Aang go first, praying to every spirit in existence that the men walking about the innermost wall wouldn’t turn to see them making their way up the rope. 

And for a second there, he thought it might actually work. 

Then, all at once, there was shouting. Variations of _“The Avatar has escaped!”_ and _“Look! Over there!”_ filled the air below them.

Aang sped up his climbing, and when he made it over the wall, he sent a blast of air that propelled Zuko skywards and back down, which was _terrifying_.

He’d only just managed to stand up when the first fireball came, arching as it met a swirl of air from Aang, growing impossibly bright before dissipating.

“Let’s go!” Aang yelled out, moving away from the sentry men with incredible speed. Zuko followed suit, brandishing his broadswords as they moved forward. 

A bell rang out high and clear, and within seconds the previously still fort had broken into waves of commotion. 

_Well, fuck._

Zuko was ready to jump over the crate Aang had glided over seconds earlier when he was knocked over, hitting the metal floor with a _thud_.

He elbowed desperately at the person atop him and scrambled away, crawling dangerously close to a gap in the edge of the wall. His heart caught in his throat at the view he had looking down.

A fall like that would kill him. 

He’d propped himself up on his forearm when a foot came crashing down, pushing him back enough to send his head and shoulders past the edge. The drop in his stomach was exactly like it had been when he’d almost fallen off the bison, but there was no one here to save him this time. Just a stranger with a mean glint in his eye, and spear positioned to puncture. 

The man adjusted, crushing Zuko’s wrist beneath his boot. Zuko felt his right broadsword slip from his grasp, exposing his hand to the cool night air.

“No!” He cried out, strangled and helpless. 

A force of air knocked him upwards, catching the man off guard and sending both of them back from the edge. Not a moment later his fallen sword was flung over the wall, and he caught it with a flourish.

 _Aang,_ he thought with brief clarity.

_He saved me._

Zuko glanced around wildy to catch sight of the Avatar, and when he did all of his gratitude melted into utter bewilderment. 

Aang had, by some fucking chance, taken balance on two bamboo ladders, and was using them like stilts. 

“Hop on!” Aang called out, legs shaking where his stability faltered.

_No way._

_No fucking way._

Zuko turned around to assess _any_ other possible options, but more and more men were spilling onto the wall and he realized then there was no other way. 

_Fuck it._

The weightless sensation of jumping was almost enough to slow time down. Zuko grabbed for the first thing he could, hanging off Aang’s shoulders and nearly bringing them down with his added weight. His breath caught as Aang moved forward, teetering through the second ring and hitting up against the central wall. 

Somewhere below them, a light was growing. 

“They set the left ladder on fire!” Aang cried out, propelling them both off the bamboo ladders and clean over the central wall. 

“Hold on!

Aang whipped out his staff, twirling it with precise skill. Their landing was softened by a dome of air Aang summoned, and for the first time in the last five minutes Zuko felt like he could breathe again. 

Until they stood, facing no less than forty men. They were surrounded, genuinely quite fucked. 

But they had to try. 

Aang struck first, sending five men back with a blast of air, careful to pad their landings, _of course_ , and just barely jumping over a fireball hurled somewhere from his left. Zuko chose to chase after whoever had dealt the flame, fighting back in a flash of swinging metal.

It was thrilling, the adrenaline racing through him overcoming all other thoughts and sensations, allowing him to exist within only that moment. 

He turned to spot Aang barreling towards him, eyes fixed on whatever threat lay behind. Without thinking about it, Zuko held out the blade of his left broadsword, watching as Aang caught on and leapt onto the surface of the blade, propelling himself high into the air and crashing down with a force that sent at least twenty of their adversaries back. 

The odds simply weren’t for them, though. 

More and more men were advancing, some dressed properly, others underdressed and slack, having interrupted their nightly routine to get a look at the Avatar. 

A simple command is what brought it all crashing down.

“Close the gate!”

Aang looked towards him, eyes wide with fear. The main gate was closing rapidly, screeching out into the night air. Zuko and Aang took off, racing to get there in time—

“Stop!”

The gate had closed. They’d failed. 

_I failed._

Aang was still poised and ready to fight, but in an instant all of the night’s disappointment came clawing at Zuko’s back, threatening to crush him.

“The Avatar is to be unharmed.” 

_Zhao._

The bastard himself was front and center of the formation now, an Admiral’s robes hanging off his left shoulder and crossing over his torso.

_They look hideous._

“As for _that_ ,” he spared Zuko a disinterested glance, “Do what you wish, Colonel Shinu.”

The Colonel, standing just behind Zhao, nodded, though his eyes betrayed a certain bitterness Zuko sympathised with immensely. 

_Unharmed._

He brandished his swords, stepping behind Aang and crossing them against the boy’s neck.

“What are you-,” the words died in Aang’s throat as Zuko pushed the blades closer. 

_Shut up. Please._

Zhao stared agape for a fraction of a second before his face pulled into a menacing glare. 

“Open the gate.” He spit out.

“Admiral-,” Colonel Shinu protested before wilting beneath Zhao’s sneer.

“I said open the gate, Colonel.”

Shinu nodded, waving vaguely to someone behind him.

Once more, all Zuko could hear was his labored breathing behind the mask. A second passed. Then another. He counted up to twenty before the sounds of the main gate opening consumed the tense environment. In no time at all he was moving backwards, swords still pressed to Aang’s throat. 

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

He only let himself relax when the sentry men on the outer wall were dots in the night. 

That was his mistake.

Because Pohuai Stronghold wasn’t just any training facility. It was a _specific_ training facility. For foot soldiers, yes. But also for archers. 

The world went black behind his mask when the arrow hit, and for a moment there was peace.

…

Sunlight is what brought him to. Sunlight, and a cool breeze on his face. It felt nice after so long in that stuffy mask. 

_Where am I?_

“These look good. Maybe I should bring an extra for Momo. Hmm. Can animals even catch people sicknesses?”

Zuko recognized that voice. 

When he fully woke, he saw Aang sitting a little ways off, talking to himself by the bank of the stream he’d been taken from yesterday evening.

Zuko also noticed that all of his things, the salve, the vial, his broadswords, and his mask, were laid out in a neat little line beside him, as if Aang had spared extra time in making sure they were well organized. 

After coming down from his shock at such a simple act of kindness, he made an attempt to move. Which was a fucking _mistake._ He groaned out in pain as his muscles fought back against any sort of movement.

_Maybe I got a little overzealous with last night’s exertion._

Aang perked up, but remained where he was, turning slightly. In the daylight, Zuko caught sight of the bags under Aang’s eyes, feeling a twinge of empathy for the young Avatar.

“You’re up,” Aang said simply, holding several frozen frogs in his arms. A bout of silence passed before Aang spoke again, “Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?” His voice sounded raspy and thickened, so he cleared his throat and looked up at the trees. 

“Save me.”

Zuko offered no answer, so Aang tried again, “Thank you. That was... _good_ of you.”

 _That_ caught him off guard. Zuko wanted to scream at Aang that that wasn’t true. He was cowardly, and a traitor to his Nation. And that even when he acted with honor, it was for selfish reasons. He wanted to yell out that the only reason he’d caught onto Aang’s capture was because he was running away. But all of his sentiments died on his tongue as Aang barreled on. 

“I think you could be good. If you tried. You were yesterday.”

Zuko didn’t have a lot of experience with good people, but he’d had enough to know he wasn’t one. Not even close. 

Aang, Katara, Sokka, _they_ were good people. They’d saved his life and suffered his presence for longer than would ever be expected of them. His Uncle was a good person, his mother had been one, too. 

_The world wasn’t made for good people. Good people are weak._

“I think we could be friends,” Aang said, so soft Zuko almost missed it. 

_No_ , he wanted to say. _No, we couldn’t._

…

In the end it was a simple thing, following Aang back to the ruins they’d made camp in, holding his mask in one hand and salve in another. The Pai Sho tile was still tucked into his belt, pressing into his stomach when he walked. Aang asked no questions of the jar, or of the vial, instead focusing on the frozen frogs cradled in his arms.

Sokka and Katara were asleep when they returned, snoring with ill congestion and huddled close together. 

Aang lay a gentle hand on Katara, shaking her awake, 

“Here,” he said, “Suck on this.” 

Without protest Katara put the frog in her mouth, and immediately her face returned to its usual warmth, life seeping back into her eyes. Aang repeated the process with Sokka, and soon enough both siblings were back to full health.

…

“We’re gonna head out soon, Aang’s tying up the tarp.”

Zuko nodded in acknowledgement, sparing a glance to where the bison stood, Aang in the saddle while Katara played with the lemur. She hadn’t said anything about his return, and she’d even gone as far as to claim _she’d_ lost the map. He didn’t quite understand it, but he’d long since reconciled that there were some things he’d never get answers for.

Sokka sighed, settling down beside him and whistling nonchalantly. 

In truth, Zuko felt terrified in that moment. He’d hoped he’d never have to face Sokka in a one-on-one conversation after the disastrous night on the fishing vessel. But. Here they were.

“Can you tell me why I should stick with you?” Zuko was caught by surprise at the question, not really sure why he'd asked it.

Sokka shifted beside him, movement still sluggish after a day and half of lying down. 

“The way I see it, if you’re here with us, then you’re accounted for. You can’t sneak up on us. It eliminates a threat.”

He hummed in response, remembering Sokka saying something similar after the incident with the pirates.

“I could always just kidnap Aang while you’re all asleep,” he said, still waiting for something to strike him down for being in their company. 

_It’s never going to come._

Sokka shrugged, “You haven’t yet.”

_But I could._

Secretly he knew he wouldn’t, but there was only so much he was willing to confront in one day. 

Zuko buried his face in his hands, this was all _exhausting._

“Please make it simple.” He pleaded, to Sokka, or the general universe, he wasn’t sure. 

“It isn’t.”

“I _know_.”

“But if you need an excuse, find one soon. Aang’s been pretending to check the tarp’s ties for a solid minute now.”

Zuko shook his head, he still didn’t get it.

“If I left, promising I wouldn’t hunt Aang down anymore, would you still want me to stay?” He asked, not sure why he was scared for the answer.

“Setting the bar high, I see.”

Zuko frowned, he was _trying_ to be serious. 

“If I knew with all certainty you leaving wouldn’t be a disadvantageous loss, then, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why? It’s not just Aang I’ve hurt. I attacked your village, burned Kyoshi, tried to kidnap Aang at the temple, and-, and I’m selfish.”

 _Where did_ that _come from?_

Of all the days to develop a guilty conscience. 

But he had to admit it to himself, things _were_ different now. The Avatar wasn’t just some unattainable goal, he was a kid named Aang who worried for his friends and bended like a master. And Aang’s friends weren’t just _‘the Water Tribe ones’_ anymore. They were Katara and Sokka, the latter of which knew the truth of his greatest shame.

It was different. 

And so, _so_ much harder.

Sokka was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled, nodding, “Yeah, you’re right. You’re a total dick, and one hell of an inconvenience. But I think you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

Zuko gave him a blank stare, nowhere close to understanding. 

Sokka continued, “You left out the part in which we handed you your ass several times over. Actually, _every_ time over. You're a total loser.”

“I am not!” He bristled. 

“Kinda.”

“Whatever.”

“Look. I-, I don’t think there’s much to be done about what you’ve already, well, _done_. But I have to believe Aang has a point about people changing.”

“Why?”

“It's a nice thought. Makes me think we might actually stand a chance in this," Sokka said, pursing his lips.

"Hmm."

The silence that followed was a tense one, and Zuko knew this was his last chance to choose. Whichever decision he made, that would be it.

“I can’t join you,” he said, watching the horizon tentatively. Sokka’s expression became tight, but he let Zuko continue, “I can’t. It’s not what I’m meant to do. But-,” he scavenged his mind for an excuse, _any_ excuse.

“But?”

“But my Uncle knew the Avatar was traveling North. Maybe I could travel alongside you guys to the North Pole. Not _with_ , _alongside._ ”

Sokka considered him for a moment, facial expression unreadable, “Okay, but, doesn’t your Uncle think you’re dead?”

“Probably. But I can’t stay dead forever, and since gossip can apparently cross oceans, I imagine word of my survival will spread eventually. Besides, he probably would have gone North anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of the snow tile?”

Sokka shook his head.

“It's a Pai Sho tile specific to the Northern Water Tribe. I think you can find it in the Northernmost parts of the Earth Kingdom, too.”

Zuko thought back fondly on a memory of his Uncle talking excitedly about it over dinner, ranting about all the different strategies he could employ with it. He cringed upon remembering his response to the old man’s excitement had been the sum of “shut” and “up.”

“Well, I guess it’s settled then.”

Sokka offered his hand when he stood, and Zuko took it, guilt building in the back of his throat. But this was safer. His impulse to run would get him nowhere. At least with these three he had _something_ to fall back on.

_This is the right thing to do._

Let the adventure begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was worth the wait. Chapter 8 shouldn't take nearly as long to get to you, but hey, c'est la vie. That is where we'll get some sweet resolution for Chapter 6 (at least where we'll start to get resolution) so hold on for me.
> 
> Also if this chapter sucked...lie to me😤
> 
> Thank you for reading/liking/commenting/bookmarking/subscribing, any and all of it. It's infinantly more fun to write for people who want to read my story.
> 
> I hope you had fun, and I hope I'll see you here again.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Open Letter

If you're back in February-

Hi! And, uh, sorry. This fic will remain on hiatus indefinitely, and I can't be sure I'll ever finish it. 

You're in luck, though! There are plenty of fics that follow that post's tumblr prompt, and I'm sure by now several have finished. 

In the end it's all quite simple: I am not capable of pulling this off, it's a bit more than I can chew at the moment! Additionally, I don't find myself as fond of the ship, or of the show, as I once was. It's a bit difficult to say, because I, like many of you, have loved atla since I was a kid. But, I am finding no joy in planning this fic or thinking of the show, and that's kind of an entry level requirement for writing a fic. It's dissapointing to me, as before this fic I'd never felt so motivated to write non-academically, but my offerings as a writer do not start and end with this specific (and not even original!) fic.

TL;DR- We can all say our goodbyes to this venture, because I need to move on (and frankly, I already have). Thank you so much for all the love you extended to this fic, and if I ever get a chance to write for you again, then I can't wait!

Feel free to message me if you have questions, or if you just wanna hang.

Thank you for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boooo! Get off the stage!
> 
> Lmao I don't expect you to, but if you did read all of that, thank you 🤧
> 
> See you later!!

**Author's Note:**

> Not done yet? Come vibe with me on tumblr @thebisonsmouth


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